


The Path of the Right

by Elison_Saquet0, N1Nj4



Series: Ain't No Grave [2]
Category: The Last of Us (Video Games)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Betaed, Canon Compliant, Canon Lesbian Relationship, Canon-Typical Violence, Everyone Needs A Hug, F/F, Flashbacks, Original Flashbacks, POV Ellie (The Last of Us), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Redemption, Roadtrip, Stargazing, Wilderness, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-31
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:07:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 23,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26194627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elison_Saquet0/pseuds/Elison_Saquet0, https://archiveofourown.org/users/N1Nj4/pseuds/N1Nj4
Summary: Ellie had jumped head first back into her quest to avenge Joel.Now on the 1,200 mile trip back to Jackson, she not only has to recover from her past wounds and think about her own actions in order to come to terms with who she has become, but also survive the external threats awaiting her on the road. Will she find redemption before she sees Dina and J.J. again?Mainly Ellie’s POV.Weekly updates, most likely on Mondays.The piece is intended to mirrorDoing This Again. You can choose to read both in any order.
Relationships: Cat/Ellie (The Last of Us), Dina & Ellie (The Last of Us), Dina/Ellie (The Last of Us), Ellie & Joel (The Last of Us), Ellie & OC
Series: Ain't No Grave [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1853092
Comments: 29
Kudos: 47





	1. Hercules

**Author's Note:**

> This is a general warning: there will be violence and potential triggers in this story. Nothing worse than what is already in the game, but I will add special warning when I think it might be necessary. 
> 
> I had a lot of fun working on this project, I've never reached that level of action/adventure in a story before so I hope you will enjoy that aspect.
> 
> As always, I want to profusely thank my lovely beta N1NJ4 who supported me and my typos, helped me bounce and inform my ideas, on top of actually contributing essential passages to this piece.

_“How is it that you’re never scared?” The boy sighed and turned away from the window to face her. He was obviously upset._

_“Who says that I’m not?” She responded immediately._

_Thinking that she wasn’t scared seemed like a very odd idea. Of course she was scared! Who wasn’t? Yet, she knew her fear was probably different from his. She looked away, unsure of where this conversation would lead them._

_“What are you scared of?” He said with a shrug, testing her._

_Taking a deep breath in, she took a few steps in his direction, unable to stop fidgeting her fingers. A gesture that always gave her nervousness away to anyone paying enough attention._

_“Ha… Let’s see,” she sighed deeply, thinking of what she could tell him without revealing too much. “Scorpions are pretty creepy,” she offered._

_She wanted to lighten the conversation but he didn’t buy it. He shook his head, turning back to the window. He was disappointed._

_“Being by myself,” she said quickly, realizing that she was saying it aloud._

_Her honesty seemed to surprise him. He faced her again, waiting for her to develop._

_“I’m scared of ending up alone,” she continued, despite herself._

_Could he understand how much she feared it? It wasn’t just a fear of losing someone close to her. He was probably scared of losing his older brother. Her fear went beyond that. She had already lost pretty much every person she had bonded with. She was scared, to death, that one day she may be the last one standing. That her immunity may mean one day every single human being on the planet may have turned into one of these horrible creatures and that she would be the last one standing to witness it, not allowed to have the relief to turn as well..._

_She smiled awkwardly, very conscious that it was one of the first times she had shared so much about herself. She tried to divert the conversation back to him._

_“What about you?” she asked softly._

_He gestured to the window._

_“Those things out there.” His tone meant it was fucking obvious that he was scared of that and that this should probably have been her answer too. But then he added: “What if the people are still inside? What if they’re trapped in there, without any control of their body?” She started to understand. “I’m scared of that happening to me.”_

_She had been scared too. But then when she had had to face it, when after the bite she waited for it to happen, holding Riley’s trembling hand as they waited to meet their fate, well… then she had had to let go of the fear. And now she would never be afraid of “that” happening to her. Because it would never happen…_

* * *

At first, the piercing whistle covered every other sound. She felt it pulsing in her inner ear, the shrill sound clawing at her attention, until it felt like her head was going to explode. She barely heard herself ordering the other to go. She didn’t even know if she said it aloud. There was just this ear-splitting _noise_ , distracting her from everything else. And then the pounding in her chest, that she could hear as it modulated the shrill sound, that she could feel in the spurting of her own blood in her hand.

After a while, it died down. Her racing heart slowed. Her jerking, rapid breathing became regular and deep. Everything started to follow the peaceful sound of the surf.

The fight, the shock, the whistle had left her mind devoid of...everything. She couldn’t think. Her normally tumultuous mind had been silenced. Not even a stray phrase floated by that she could latch onto. She was just like a sponge: taking in everything, retaining nothing. 

Sounds passed through her, failing to provoke a reaction. 

There were still shouts in the distance, the cracking of guns being fired, explosions thundering angrily as the buildings behind her collapsed in on themselves. And yet, nothing that could possibly catch her attention. 

Every breath she took brought in a cocktail of smells. There was, first, the acid smell of the smoke. It was thick, gross, stifling. When the wind turned, blowing inland, it would chase the smoke and bring the scent of the sea: salt, water, mist. The blood in her nose and mouth, the blood covering her body like a second skin tainted everything with an iron taste. And then, like a background color barely noticeable but still there, was the repugnant odor of decaying bodies, heated by the sun, eaten by the ocean spray and the birds, rotten by the forward march of time. 

She felt dizzy, disgusted. She felt the bile rise in the back of her throat, like she would puke. Maybe she did. She felt cold. Not just cold like in a winter storm. She felt cold from the inside, from inside her very bones. Like a cold nothing could ever rid you of. 

* * *

The boy coughed as he ran down the stairs, covering his mouth with the sleeve of his shirt. The smoke stung his eyes, bringing up tears that made it even harder for him to maintain his footing. He almost tripped when the solid composition of the concrete stairs made way, without any warning, to the soft shifting surface of the sand. He’d finally made it to the beach. 

He bypassed the pillars -he’d seen his fill of that- and headed straight towards the boats, praying there would remain at least one for him. He couldn’t accept that he might be stuck there, not after everything… 

As he moved closer to the shore, he froze. 

“Fuck!” 

He licked his upper lip, thinking quickly. What was this fucking runner doing in the middle of the piers? He walked slowly, bringing a trembling hand to his waist to grab the gun he had picked up minutes earlier. He had never taken any infected down before. But he had seen them doing it. It couldn’t be that hard. 

He pulled the gun out carefully, his eyes locked on the rocking figure sitting in the water. The gun felt heavy in his hand as he lifted it in front of him, arms extended, and tried to aim while stepping closer. 

He didn’t pay attention to the way the waves sounded different when they started to soak through his shoes. 

But she noticed. 

He was maybe twenty feet away from her but he froze when she turned suddenly and glanced at him, pausing only half a second before she started splashing the water around her. It confused him: he had never seen a runner behave like that. He looked at her, unable to bring himself to pull the trigger. She kept moving around, splashing herself, her hands digging in the water like a clumsy bear trying to catch a fish. He had seen one doing that once when he was little. A grizzly bear catching trout. 

It lasted for several minutes: him, standing still, holding the gun in front of him, muzzle locked on the runner; and the runner barely paying attention to him, just looking for something around her, grunting, panting and crying. 

And then she stopped. And really he swore he had never seen a runner behave so much like a human. She sounded like she was crying. Like, a real human cry. Not like these deranged whines that gave him nightmares. And suddenly he doubted. _Was it possible she wasn’t a runner?_ Exactly when this thought crossed his mind, the figure lifted her head again, and their eyes locked. 

Human.

“Fucking shit…” He let out, lowering his gun.

She didn’t look very sane. She stared in his direction, panting while holding her right side. He wasn’t sure she was looking at him because her gaze seemed very unfocused. 

He felt relieved though. If she did look like she’d come back from the dead, at least she wasn’t an infected. He could only base his judgement on the few other slaves Don forced him to watch turn before they were either chained in the middle of the gardens or thrown into a pit with dozens of others infected. Just for entertainment… He squeezed his eyes shut at the memory of the shrieks and clacking that escaped from this area of the mansion. He hastily chased the thoughts and focused again on the woman in front of him. Maybe she could help him find a way out of Santa Barbara. His whole life was spent in the mansion and from pieces of overheard conversations, he knew that he had absolutely no idea what he was getting himself into. At least this was one thing he could be certain... 

He walked to her quickly, water spraying his bare calves. She lifted her hand, in an attempt to push him away, but she collapsed without even touching him. He grabbed her wrist and pulled her arm around his shoulder. He yanked her up, getting a wheezing groan from her by way of acknowledgement, and dragged her to the only boat in sight. 

He found a bow and a backpack that looked full of guns and arrows in the boat. He guessed they must belong to the dying woman he had just pushed onboard. She had landed there without even trying to catch her fall. The woman’s indifference to what was happening to her gave him pause. _Was this a good idea? Could he hope to get any help out of her?_ She hadn’t even moved after landing on the floor of the boat. She just laid there, on her back, her eyes closed and her chest raising and falling irregularly. 

If she died, he decided, he would push her overboard. But he knew that as long as she breathed, he couldn’t bring himself to leave her behind, knowing he had left someone there to bleed out in the water. Don would have laughed at him for being so soft. She hadn’t even asked for anything.

He lifted himself on board as well, pushed the woman’s legs aside so he could sit on the little bench by the engine and turned it on. Tried to. It took him a few attempts: he had never done it before. Like most things in his life, he’d only seen others do it.

He didn’t drive the boat very far: just far enough for them to get away from the burning shore and the smoke. He didn’t know the area around and didn’t want to risk getting lost. He found a sandy little cove that seemed hidden enough by the vegetation. There was no smoke there, no blood, no footprints. It looked safe. 

He drove the boat until the water was shallow enough that he could see the ocean’s floor. He jumped in the water and grabbed the side of the boat, pulling it onto the secluded beach. 

Once the hull was stuck on the sand, he let himself fall on the ground and laid there while he caught his breath. Then he finally took the time to think. What was he to do now? 

Having moved away from the burning building, the thick smoke didn’t cover the sun any longer. The vegetation offered a bit of shade, but the temperature was still very hot.

He stood up and bent over the boat. Water. He needed water. And food. He grabbed the woman’s backpack, and turned it over to empty it on the wood floor. Guns, a bandage, duct tape, a notebook… and there were a few scavenged granola bars and a half emptied flask of water. He shook the bag once to dislodge the rest of the items and a bundle of seemingly random weapon parts clunked as it hit the bottom of the boat, followed shortly by several bottles of... pills? The boy picked up one of the unmarked containers and peered at the capsules before shoving them back in the woman’s bag. He refocused on the granola bars, the immediate concern, willing them to double in number before his eyes. After a moment, he sighed. It was not much, but still better than nothing.

He looked at the woman who still laid down on the irregular floor of the boat. Her breathing seemed calmer than before and she had lifted her right hand to her stomach again. If it wasn’t for her breathing and the low moans she let out from time to time, he would have thought she was dead. She was extremely pale and he couldn’t figure if she was passed out or asleep. Sometimes she would half-open her eyes and blink slowly, either looking in his direction or up to the sky. She was extremely dirty: a mix of dirt, sand and both fresh and old blood, not exactly washed away by the salted water. 

He frowned and shook his head. She really wasn’t his best gamble but she was the first living, non-rattler grown-up he had encountered since escaping Don’s apartments. From the looks of it, she could die on him any second and he would have to start all over again looking for a companion. He would try his best to keep her alive until she woke up and told him where to go.

Grabbing the flask, he decided on splitting the supplies. After all, they were hers. He put his hand down on the woman’s shoulder and felt her flinch. 

“Hey,” he said, shaking her. 

She barely opened one of her swollen eyes, her face remaining expressionless. He lifted the flask for her to see. He could swear she nodded. 

He took two gulps of water. It woke the irritation in his throat and almost made him spit the water out when he started coughing. Then he handed the flask to the woman. But she didn’t move. 

“Water?” He asked, still offering the drink in her direction.

She opened an eye again and nodded. 

“Okay, I get it.”

He approached and placed a hand under her head to lift it so he could pour the water in her mouth. She let only one drop of water escape. The rest, she drank it all. She touched his arm twice, weakly, which he understood as her way to thank him. 

He considered the granola bars for a few minutes. There were three. He wasn’t sure she could eat, but one thing was certain: if he wanted her to recover quickly, she needed strength.

He ate one bar in two bites, which he felt only caused him to feel hungrier than before, in spite of the stale taste it left in his mouth. After that, he broke a chunk off the second one and handed it to the woman who ignored him. 

He pushed the piece of food against her closed mouth gently. Eventually, she parted her lips and allowed him to feed her. He caught a glimpse of red against the whites of her teeth and noticed deep purple swaths blooming across her face and neck. She reminded him of Sean the first time he pissed off Don… 

“Those bruises look painful...” The boy bit his cheek, muttering to himself. 

He watched as she kept the piece of granola in her mouth and didn’t chew, eventually coughing and spitting it out. He leaned over to pick up the piece of granola from the floor and dusted the sand off quickly. He sighed and brought the piece to his own mouth. He couldn’t afford to waste food and given how injuries were still forming on her body, she definitely needed all the energy she could get. He chewed on the cereal and instead of swallowing it, he spit it out into his hand and brought the masticated lump to her mouth. God, that was gross… But it worked: he smiled as she accepted the food. She touched his hand again. _At least she’s polite_ , he thought. He fed her the entire bar this way and kept the last one for later. 

With eating taken care of, he looked around him. He didn’t know what to do. Never before had he been free outside. He had only ever imagined how light he would feel if he ever made it out of that place. Light enough to fly, like a bird. Often, he would fall asleep, imagining he was gliding in the air above the ocean, like the seagulls he watched from the windows.

But it didn't feel like that, and he wished he had spent more time actually thinking of how to survive outside.

He hopped back in the boat to sit on the dry board and think. He had escaped Don and the mansion, escaped the beach, found food, water, and even a companion. Well, kind of a companion. He tried to think of the books he had stolen around and read under the cover of his blanket. They were never really about survival, but at least their characters didn't live locked up in a room. What did they do in these books? 

No idea came to his mind. 

He nudged the woman’s foot to wake her and sighed.

“What should I do?” He asked, hoping for a response. She was a grown up. Looked like it, at least. Even in her current state, she had to know. 

By way of answer, she lifted her left hand up towards him. He gave a shout of surprise and backed away. 

“Gross!” He grimaced with disgust. 

He _really_ hadn’t expected that kind of answer.

The woman’s hand was covered with blood. It had run down the side of her wrist and arm, coating half of her hand in a deep red. He leant forward and grimaced. Two of the woman's fingers had been shredded off her hand. The flesh at the end of the stumps was swollen and dark. A piece of skin dangled loosely. 

The sight almost brought the granola bar back up to his mouth. 

He looked at the woman again, still grimacing, and understood what he needed to do when, for the first time, she held his gaze.

He grabbed her wrist and held the hand closer to his face, fighting a wave of disgust. He had seen many wounds in his short life and knew that this needed to be cleaned. He grabbed the empty flask and looked at it as if his gaze could make it instantaneously fill with water. That’d be convenient. But of course it didn’t happen. He was going to need to go on a run for clean water. 

By lack of anything better, he took the bandage that had dropped out of the bag and wrapped the dirty hand in it. The blood immediately soaked the first layers but didn’t go through. 

“I’ll be back,” he said once that was done, placing the woman’s hand to rest on her stomach. He noticed she seemed to be bleeding from her stomach as well. No wonder she looked so pale… Without her protesting, he lifted one side of her shirt and raised his eyebrows at the sight of the wound by her hip. He didn’t have any more bandages. He looked around. There was nothing he could use out here.

“Alright,” he grunted, passing his shirt over his head. 

He rolled the thin cotton cloth in a ball and pressed it down on the woman’s stomach.

“Try to hold that down while I’m getting more stuff!” He ordered with a confidence he didn’t really have at all. 

* * *

He felt stupid. How had he found himself in a situation where _he_ had to take care of an adult. Literally, pat-their-cheeks-until-they-regain-consciousness _take care_. Fuck, he wasn’t even sure how to take care of himself!

He shook his head as he peered down the wall he had just climbed. He was satisfied by the sight though: from up here, the trees hid the boat and the woman. He adjusted the backpack he had stolen from her. He had left all her guns, taking only the one he’d picked up in the mansion. 

Five bullets, that’s all he had, but he wasn’t even sure he would be capable of shooting one ever again… 

He ducked behind the cars parked for decades along the sidewalk and walked uphill under their cover: there were a couple of houses up the road. He had been lucky so far, maybe he would find what he needed there. 

* * *

“Yes!” He whispered happily.

It was the sixth house he visited. He had started to feel impatient up until he found it.

There was the dead body of a man lying next to him. Not his doing: the guy had been shot in the head at least a week ago. The smell in the room had almost made him renounce sweeping the house but he really didn’t want to have to continue to walk uphill under the sun if he could avoid it by finding the supplies in here. 

He grabbed a red pouch attached to the man’s waist: it was a first aid kit that contained several clean bandages, a small bottle that said “disinfectant” and a stitching kit. Along with other things he didn’t know if he needed. He placed everything in the backpack and patted the rest of the guy’s pockets. He found an open pack of dark jerky meat: he smelled it and dropped it on the floor immediately. Gross. He moved on to the next room. 

It looked like the living room had been the temporary home to several people who had left in hast. There were several blankets laying on the floor and two small bright-colored bags. Their contents were scattered on the floor. He found two bottles of water but no food. It would do.

* * *

He felt lighthearted as he trotted down the hill. Had he found food, he would even have started to sing!

He stopped suddenly and dropped to the ground when he saw the two men in front of him. They were holding machine guns and watching over the other side of the street. He swallowed with difficulty. Good thing he didn’t sing… they would have heard him. He crawled to the sidewalk and peered in their direction through the shattered window of one of the cars. The two men kept walking away from him, oblivious to his presence. He sighed. 

He waited until they were out of sight, further down the street, to approach the small wall overlooking the cove. He rolled over to the other side and climbed down the rocks. 

He dropped the pack on the floor of the boat and looked at the woman. She hadn’t moved and she still looked very pale. The bandage on her hand was stained with red: she was still bleeding. She had placed her other hand on her stomach, applying pressure to the wound his shirt was staunching. 

“I’m back!” He said, half-hoping for an answer that didn’t come. 

He pulled one of the bottles out of the bag as well as the first aid kit and smiled.

“Let’s get you cleaned up!”

She couldn’t know, but talking to himself like that meant he was getting nervous. He shivered. He wasn’t looking forward to seeing again the gashes at the ends of her fingers…

He grabbed her hand with resolution though and started to undo the bandage. 

“My name is Max by the way,” he said, looking at her face for a second -really, he was more looking away from the wound as he removed the last layers of fabric. 

He placed the soaked strip of cloth on the edge of the boat and took a deep breath before pouring a bit of the water on her wound. She flitched, but he held her wrist firmly as she shook with obvious pain.

The blood came off more easily than he expected.

“Holy fucking shit!” He shouted, dropping her hand and backing up to the other side of the boat. 

She was bit!

If his heart had not been racing in his chest, he would have burst in laughter. He was such an idiot! Taking her in the boat, bandaging her hand, going out there to find more water and bandages for her… All of this while she was turning into one of those infected monsters. He should have left her on the beach when he first saw her. She would be a runner soon enough anyway. _God, what an amateur_ , he thought to himself, humiliated.… And he had even started to feel proud of himself.

He shook his head. He didn’t stand a chance out here.

Maybe he better go back to the mansion and ask Don to forgive him. Maybe the old man wouldn’t be too mad. Maybe it would be okay. He would try his best to do as he asked and earn his indulgence…

No. He couldn't do that. First, he never wanted to go back. And second, he remembered, Don was dead. He’d killed him. 

“Not-” he heard the woman whisper. She swallowed and licked her lips before exhaling. “Not infected.”

Realization dawned on him. 

_Another human did this?_

Out of cowardice, he decided to believe her. He still had his gun if she’d lied. Didn’t he?

* * *

Because of the armed men he saw on the street earlier, he figured it wasn’t safe for them to stay in the cove. He cleaned her wounds -what kind of person would bite someone’s hand like that?- and gave her more water to drink. Then he tucked the blanket he had retrieved in the house under her head. She pressed on his hand again, more vigorously than before, which he took with an encouraged smile to mean that he was helping.

And he waited. 

He waited for the tide to be up again, watching the woman sleep and regaining her color, listening to the noises around and trying to detect any potential threat. 

The waves licked the front of the boat, and soon it was entirely circled by the water. He jumped out of the boat and started to push it back, carving deep grooves as the vessel inched forward.

“I’m getting us out of here!” He grunted, sinking his heels in the sand and pushing against the edge of the boat with all of his weight.

Once they were floating at decent depth, he lifted himself into the boat and started the engine. He got it working on the first try this time. 

He took enough distance from the shore to avoid being too noticeable and continued to lead the boat along the coast. He continued even after the sun had sunk into the ocean. 

He gazed with awe at the stars above their head. He had never been able to see them so clearly, without a roof above his head, without a concrete wall to limit his field of vision, allowing just a small square of shining sky to him. He felt tears of joy and relief running down his cheeks. 

He was free!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, hang in there, Ellie's going to come back into the narration. Just, let her rest a bit, okay?


	2. Draco

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, this time Ellie's back from the dead!
> 
> Thank you guys for the kudos and bookmarks and all! <3
> 
> \--  
> Trigger warning in the end notes.

_“Common! Gimme something!”_

_She frantically opened every single drawer looking for something she could use. Anything. A first aid kit, an idea, a miracle. But all she could find were old fucking useless spoons._

_“Fuck!”_

_She sent the drawer to crash on the floor as desperation took over the little composure she had left. Her hands were sticky with blood, numb from the winter cold, shaking because of the fear._

_One more drawer._

_And fucking finally._

_It wasn’t much, barely anything really, but it was something she could work with. It would have to work to patch him up, to buy her enough time to figure out the rest._

_“Here we go!”_

_She ran back to Joel and his already blood stained mattress._

_“Ok! I’m gonna put you on your side!” She told him -or herself- as she squatted next to him, knees firmly planted on the ground against the mattress, hands on his hip and shoulder, ready to push._

_He let out a hoarse breath in response, and she took it as his approval and put her weight against his body to roll him on his side. He tried to help, arching his back in an attempt to send his weight on the left side of his body. Which was a good sign, wasn’t it? He was still somewhat conscious. The effort had made him grunt. A shaky grunt that told Ellie just how much pain he felt, how close he was to not making it. How much she had to hurry to find a solution and patch him up._

_She lifted his jacket and shirt all at once. They were soaked with blood._

_“Jesus…”_

_She couldn’t hold the curse._

_The hole in his stomach, the hole_ through _his stomach was horrifying. Neat, dark, bloody._

_He wheezed and she saw more blood gushing out of the wound, from both his back and stomach._

Fuck, fuck, fuck! 

_What was she gonna do?_

_He got himself impaled on a fucking metal shaft, and she didn’t even know if this was the kind of wound someone could recover from. What if a vital organ was damaged? Could he have made it this far if that were the case? Could she consider he was out of immediate danger after having crawled back to Callus through the University's building and found the strength to lift himself back on the horse? Was she allowed to take this as a hint that he was going to be okay? Or was it all adrenaline? A momentum that, maybe, had even made things worse for him..._

_No. She couldn’t think that way. He_ had _to survive. He couldn’t let her down, there, in the middle of nowhere, in the middle of Winter. She needed him. And he needed her to hold her shit together and do anything she could to help._

_She grabbed her only spare T-shirt -the one she had taken from the mall, once Riley was no longer with her- and laid it on his side. She didn’t have anything else to use as a bandage._

_Duck tape and a fucking T-Shirt… A joke…_

_Blood soaked through the cotton fabric immediately._

_She taped the fabric directly to his skin, pressing hard on his side, hoping it would be enough to stop the bleeding._

_He wheezed again when she rolled him in his back._

_“That should buy us some time. I’ll find something to stitch you up.” She whispered to him._

_She didn’t even know if it was the right thing to do, but it was all she could think of. She didn’t have the time to fucking learn how to be a surgeon._

_The silence in the room, around her, was deafening. She tried to find some semblance of comfort in her own voice, talking to Joel, to Callus, to herself._

_It was only after she pulled down the store’s metal gate and found herself alone in the empty mall that the reality of the situation struck her. And how fucking desperate her attempt to save Joel was._

_What was she going to do without him?_

_How was she going to find the Fireflies without him?_

_“Now where the fuck do I go?” She hissed between her teeth, mentally slapping herself to tame her fear and keep focused on her objective._

_Stitch Joel up._

_Save Joel._

_Not letting him die, because if he died, she really wasn’t sure she could make it through._

* * *

Ellie woke up during the night. 

She didn’t move immediately and only stared at the dark sky filled with stars above her. There was no sound except for the lapping of waves against the boat. If it had not been for the tough feeling of the wood under her back, she would have thought she was still on the beach by the pillars. She realized with relief that most of the smells were gone too.

As she laid at the bottom of the boat, she tried to recollect her memories. They were blurred, but she remembered a gun pointed at her and her desperate attempt to find her mother’s knife in the sand. Then the boy, sometimes smiling at her, sometimes frowning, as if he expected something of her, as if he had asked her a question she hadn’t heard and was waiting for an answer. 

_Where was he now?_

She propped herself up on her elbows and peered overboard. Not surprisingly, she was surrounded by water. She focused on the horizon and eventually could make the outline of a jagged coast in the dark not too far away.

She was thirsty. 

She looked around her in the boat. The moon gave her enough light to distinguish the shape of her canteen next to her. She grabbed it with a grunt and brought the liquid to her mouth after popping the cap with her thumb. It was lukewarm but it still felt good. 

When she put the canteen down, she noticed two things: the dark shape of the boy on the other side of the boat, curled up by her feet while he slept, and the white patch of fabric around her left hand.

It distracted her. She brought her hand closer to her face and turned it to inspect both sides. She noticed the dark stains of blood by her pinkie and winced at the memory of Abby’s bite. The thought seemed to awaken the pain and she squeezed her eyes shut to tame its sharpness. 

She carefully rose to a sitting position and extended her good hand towards the boy, landing it on his shoulder and shaking him. 

He woke up immediately with a jolt. 

“Hey,” she croaked before pointing at the engine next to the boy and then at the cliffs. “Is it still working? It’s not safe here, we need to move.”

* * *

They’d had enough gas to make it to a small beach by dawn. Ellie let the boy drive the boat while she inspected the rest of her wounds in the dark. She could feel the dull pain caused by bruises on the sides of her face, her ribs and on her shoulders, where Abby had punched her during their fight. There was a soft scab on her side and she was surprised when she felt the new stitches.

She looked at the boy in silence for a moment, trying to understand both why and how he had taken care of her. Since he kept his eyes focused on their destination and never met her gaze, she focused her attention on her backpack and their supplies. There really wasn’t much. Repacking was quick. 

As soon as the boat hit the sand, they jumped off and walked to the cover of the bushes. Ellie found herself out of breath quicker than she expected and she had to hold her right side to ignore the gnawing burning sensation around the wound. 

They found a map of the state in one of the few cars abandoned in the parking lot uphill. While she let the boy scout around for any useful resources in the other cars, she studied the map and decided on a route different from the one she had followed on the way to Santa Barbara. She didn’t want to cross the Death Valley a second time and wanted to avoid Las Vegas. They would go North and cut East through the Stanislaus Forest. If they could find a car, they would be able to put Santa Barbara and the Rattlers behind them in no time.

She folded the map and looked around her. The boy was walking back toward her wearing a triumphant smile. He had found a small backpack for himself, as well as a hunter’s knife and a few rags, including an oversized T-shirt he seemed happy to put on. 

“Look what I found!” He said with excitement, holding up a plastic toy. It was a big white bear wearing a thick armor imitating gold. It had long menacing claws darting from his raised paws. It looked pretty cool.

Ellie let a sad smile creep on her face as the memory of Sam’s disappointed voice echoed her head. _“We only take what we have to.”_ It had been so cruel...

She shook her head and tried to shoot an encouraging smile at the boy.

“Good pick!”

* * *

Finding a car was easier said than done. They couldn’t get any of the cars around them to work and ended up setting off by foot through the hills, following the river. The boy didn’t ask any questions when she pointed at the direction they were headed, he just nodded and followed her. 

They hiked for a whole day, slowly climbing uphill under the sun. They stopped in an overgrown orchard and picked up some fruit that they partially ate, stuffing additional handfuls in their bags. When the river disappeared in the rocks, they kept pushing north until they reached a pass that offered a large panorama on the valley. As Ellie expected, there were many more mountains to come, most being much higher. But there was also a highway down the valley and resort by a lake. She could try again to find a car.

Although climbing down was much easier, it took them another two hours before they reached the lake. They followed its shore to the main building of the resort, keeping an eye out for any sign of infected. Ellie had drawn her silenced gun out of the back of her jeans and watched the boy follow suit with less confidence. She kept her smirk to herself and focused on the gate. 

There was no sign of life, be it human or fungal, and the only noises she could hear were the songs of the birds and the buzzing of the flies and mosquitos.

The door didn’t offer any resistance when she pushed it open. 

There was no trace of spores either, which was a good sign. 

She carefully walked into the dark corridor and turned on her lamp. She then waved for the boy to stay at the entrance while she explored the building. 

* * *

The woman had disappeared around the corner of the corridor, leaving him alone in the dark without much explanation. She had just said that she needed to sweep the building when they caught sight of it from the shore. 

Whatever, he assumed she knew what she was doing. 

He just wished it didn’t mean he was left behind. He hated it. But he remained where she had asked him to stay.

A part of him actually welcomed the break: he sat on the floor to rest his sore legs. He had never walked that much in a single day! All afternoon, he had felt his calves burning at each new step he took. The back of his ankles were red and irritated. He took his shoes off and rubbed the soft skin through his socks. He had refrained from complaining, because even though the woman had been nice to him ever since she woke up there was a gravity, a severity even, in her eyes that made him feel like he couldn’t act like a baby with her. That he had to keep the bearable pain for himself. 

They hadn’t really talked, except for when she introduced herself and asked him his name, and then later when she pointed at things she wanted him to see: the trails, the fruit, the animal tracks… Most of the time, she looked like she was too focused on the trail to look for a conversation - and he was too happy to follow. At other times, he also caught her looking absently into the distance, as if she had forgotten he was even there. He didn’t press her though, settling for following her no matter what, eager to put as much distance as possible between the memories of Don and the Rattlers and himself. 

Sitting in the corridor, he kept his gun close to him, but after a while, boredom took over his resolution and he couldn’t help drawing the toy from his backpack. Had he not earned a bit of playtime? Plus, she wasn’t around so he felt he could ease off a bit.

He jolted when he heard Ellie clear her throat behind him. 

He had been pretty caught up in his own thoughts, apparently. 

Or maybe she was just very stealthy… 

She kneeled next to him and slid her backpack in front of her. She then pulled out a lamp and handed it to him. 

“Hold this up.” She ordered softly, not really asking. 

He nodded and turned it on, pointing the light towards the bag. 

She pulled a gray-blue towel out of her bag and placed it on the floor. Then she took out a bottle of alcohol, a ball of rags and a new, clean, bandage. 

“Can I use your knife?”

He grabbed the big knife out of the front pocket of his bag. It was heavy in his hand. 

She pulled it out of the sheath and rubbed the blade with a rag soaked with alcohol. He watched her undo the bandage around her hand, trying to hold firmly the lamp so that she wouldn’t notice how his hand had started to shake. He still remembered the shredded skin there. He couldn’t hold a shudder when she removed the last layer and let out a faint whimper. 

She looked up at him, as if he had made the noise, but for half a second, he swore he saw a hint of fear in her eyes. He took a deep breath and held the lamp more firmly. He would be strong. 

She placed her left hand flat on the towel, spreading her fingers and, with her right hand, she grabbed the handle of the clean knife. He heard her taking several deep breaths and squeezed his eyes shut when she approached the blade to the stumps. 

He heard her grunting and panting but he kept his eyes closed. Then there was the sound of a lighter being flicked, a silence only filled with her rapid, shaky breaths and a low sizzle, his nostrils immediately filling with the gross smell of burnt flesh. Only when she let out a long sigh did he look again. The towel, the bandages and his knife were stained with blood. She held her newly dressed hand up and swiped the knife clean on the towel before handing it back to him.

“Thank you,” she whispered. 

They stayed silent for a while. She rested her head against the wall, eyes shut, her right hand holding her left one up in the air, and he stared at her. 

He was amazed at how brave she was. A hell of a good gamble! 

He wished he could be the same. 

“Got you something,” she stated eventually, nodding toward the backpack. 

She leaned forward and started rummaging through it with her uninjured hand. She dug out a hat and a thick metal flask that she handed to him. 

“To complete your gear.”

* * *

When they walked out of the building, the sun was considerably lower in the sky and the temperature had started to drop. They headed towards the closest parking lot where they found dozens of wrecks, either burnt or covered in rust. 

He felt depressed when he saw the state of the cars. 

No way they were going to have more luck here than by the beach. Which meant they’d have to hike again. 

Dragging his feet, he followed the woman to the second parking lot. He stayed under one of the shades while waiting for her to confirm the bad news.

To his surprise, his pessimism was met with the sputtering cough of a still-functional engine. He ran toward the sound and found the woman in a half-red, half-rusted Chevrolet car. She turned off the engine and he watched her tap the side of the car door, like one would rewardingly pat the neck of a horse.

“We need to collect gas, we’ll leave tomorrow.” She informed him.

She taught him how to use a long thin hose to siphon the gas from the other cars and they took turns filling a large jerrycan they’d found in the trunk of a pick-up truck. They filled the tank of the car and refilled the jerrycan with all they could find. 

It was pitch black by the time they were done.

* * *

Ellie looked at the boy in front of her and chuckled. It was the third attempt at piling the wood, and God he was helpless! He had refused her help, saying he wanted to learn, repeating he had seen _them_ do it and that he could do it too. 

“How come you don’t even know how to build a fire?” She asked good-naturedly. 

He shrugged, lifted his head and looked at her, daring her to mock him.

“I just… never had the occasion.” He muttered. 

“Yea, but how come? Did you grow up with them?” She asked, nodding towards the South, where they had come from. 

He didn’t respond immediately and seemed to be debating whether or not to tell the truth. 

“Yea.” He said simply, looking away.

The thought that a kid could be brought up in the midst of slavery and shackled infected made her sick. She thought of the laughter that animated Jackson’s streets all year round. It made her blood run cold to think that a kid could be brought up without these moments of pure innocence.

“How old are you anyway?” She asked. 

“They said I was ten.”

Ten years… Ten years in a place like that. The thought brought goose bumps to the back of her neck. How many kids did they raise in that crazy place? What could it be like to be raised amid so much cruelty? Boston had already felt like hell when she was younger, and that was without slavery in the picture...

“They usually don’t keep kids around,” he said, as if reading her mind. 

She could sense there was a whole story behind the grave look he gave her. But she decided not to push further with her questions: she wasn’t sure she could handle it anyway. She nodded once again and shifted closer to him and his fire attempt. 

He didn’t complain when she showed him how to properly pile the wood, how to get the sparks to light the tinder and when to add more kindling. Instead he watched her do all of this with her right hand, putting on one of those huge smiles he had been wearing ever since they left the ocean shore. 

She smiled awkwardly and turned her attention to the dancing flames. 

“Where I come from, they would’ve taught you this kind of thing,” she said softly. 

She didn’t need to say it for him to understand that this was an invitation to continue to stick around until they get back to “where she came from.” Just like he didn’t need to say “yes” for her to know that he would follow her. There was nothing here worth staying for. 

She stared at the small flames dancing in front of her, and let the heat caress her face. It was a softer touch after the oppressive rays of the sun which had made an earnest attempt at scorching any exposed skin the moment they ventured out from under the shade of the trees. 

Now that they had a car, things would go faster. 

She preferred traveling on the back of a horse, though. Sure, horses were slower: a year ago, they had only needed two days to go from Seattle back to Jackson in that WLF truck, when it had taken them almost two months to do the same outbound trip with Shimmer. But horses were good company, they didn’t run out of gas and they could navigate dense forests, wild torrents and the rugged terrains of ruined cities and rocky mountains. 

She remembered the first time she travelled in a car with Joel. She had been amazed by how much distance they could cover at times, and how quickly they could get stuck by a little obstacle on the way. Like one of those endless traffic jams blocking the road for miles and miles. Or the unexpected collapse of a bridge or segment of road. In the cars, they could always find supplies and more gas, which was good. But they would lose time, having to go around and find another road, and they were forced to go close or even through cities they would have otherwise avoided. Cities meant higher risks: they could drive into a faction and their trap, like they almost did in Pittsburgh with Joel. They could drive into a horde, like she almost did in Las Vegas, that time alone. 

They would have to be careful. But they had a car and it was better than nothing. They would progress faster than by foot. 

She laid back and rested her head on her backpack, keeping her left hand up on her stomach. She sighed deeply, taking in the wave of pain caused by the sudden movement. It made her amputated fingers throb. She had not taken too much time to dwell on her situation ever since waking up in the boat, focusing mainly on moving forward and doing what she did best: _surviving_.

It was easy to focus her attention on her surroundings, to look for supplies and shelter, to think of all the threats around them, all the possible scenarios she had to anticipate at every new step taken on the trails. It was easy to pretend that she knew where she was going.

The truth was that, ever since stepping out of the farm on that cold morning a few weeks ago, she had put on blinders and kept moving forward. She had set herself one single objective: Abby. Find Abby and kill her. It had been like a mantra, something that kept her putting one step in front of the other when she thought she couldn’t do it anymore. When she had been stuck in the darkness in Nevada, she found the needed light in this simple statement. Find Abby and kill her. When she felt lost in the hot desert, when she thought she would collapse, her skin mercilessly beaten by the sun, she’d repeated it to herself. Find Abby and kill her. When she would linger so long on her diary that all she wanted to do was crawl back to Dina and J.J. and pretend that none of the events that had brought her after Abby had happened. _Find Abby and kill her._ When at night she thought she would never find sleep, she'd repeat the sentence, again and again, until it burnt her tongue and made her mind spin into unconsciousness.

The further she moved from Jackson, the easiest it seemed to imagine _nothing_ ever happened. There was a lightness, a burden lifted from her shoulder. The weight of the memories, as if it were a beast that found legs of their own in the four words she repeated to herself. Find Abby and kill her. But then, like a cruel feral beast, it'd attack her. Crises drowned her into memories and scenes from her own imagination, to a point where she couldn't always tell which was a memory, which was a nightmare and which was the reality. The beast would crawl back onto her back, sinking her into the sand of the desert, swallowing her in the darkness of the moonless nights, suffocating her in the smoke of the wildly burning forests. At the end of the day, it all came down to the same four words: _find Abby_ and _kill her_.

And every step she took that brought her closer to Santa Barbara, also slowly, progressively, severed her ties to her life in Jackson. To her life at all. Because “find Abby and kill her” may just as well mean “find Abby and be killed by her.” And she found it didn’t really matter. As long as she found Abby, then _kill_ or _be killed_ just sounded the same.

Once she reached Santa Barbara, she couldn’t have said if going back to Dina and J.J. had ever been in her plans. She still thought of them, wished they were by her side. But she couldn’t tell if she’d ever considered this journey _could_ be the kind you complete before returning home whole, unchanged, or changed for the best. 

She’d never thought of another outcome. She’d never thought of this scenario: find Abby and _not_ kill her and _not_ be killed by her either. 

It didn’t seem like it had ever been a plausible option.

But she had felt the drive wake in her chest and roar like a long hibernating creature disturbed in its sleep. Another beast, stronger. _Survive_.

An untamable, inextinguishable, uncompromising instinct to keep on living at all cost. 

For more than a year she’d buried it. She thought she’d lost it the day she lost Joel. 

But then, on that beach, and now alongside this unknown kid who came out of nowhere, she felt this familiar tingling up the back of her neck, in her own stomach. 

Nothing was clear but this truth: she would survive. Where to go, what to expect, how to find purpose, none of these questions were answered yet. Nothing was defined. But she knew now, for certain, that she would maintain this primal grip on life until she figured things out. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: hint at child abuse, nothing explicit.


	3. Ursa Major

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hopefully by now you've figured out the pattern in the chapters' titles. Being a big stargazing nerd myself, I highly doubt that Ellie knows nothing about the stars in the sky! Could you imagine being able to watch a clear sky without any light pollution for miles and miles around? I think it would be one of the best advantages of a post-apocalyptic world! 
> 
> There isn't any specific TW in this chapter. Just enjoy and relax (but not too much!)
> 
> A final word to thank you so much again for the kudos, bookmarks, comments! I was struggling with chapters 4 and 5, and they really helped me getting through the tough moment! <3

_“Stop with the bullshit!” She cut him off angrily. God, he was acting like a fucking coward!_

_“What are you so afraid of?” she asked sharply. “That I’m gonna end up like Sam?”_

_He didn’t respond and just stared at her, making her feel like she was the one throwing a tantrum when really, he was._

_“I can’t get infected.” She said, insisting on each syllable. And because she hated how he made her feel like a stupid baby, she added: “I can take care of myself.”_

_“How many close calls have we had?” he finally reacted, interrupting her._

_“Well, we seem to be doing alright this far.” She responded. Fuck, that wasn’t even an acceptable reason!_

_“And now you’ll be doing even better with Tommy!” He yelled angrily._

_She felt slapped by the energy he put into getting rid of her. It hurt her._

_And to think she had grown to consider him almost like a father… She felt pathetic._

_“I’m not her, you know,” she said with a calmer voice as he started walking away, although she wasn’t sure why she brought his daughter up. Maria had mentioned that Tommy found Joel had changed after she died. That he’d prevented anyone from being too close. So maybe he felt they had grown too close and that’s why he was trying to cut her off now._

_“What?!” he asked, still angry, and facing her again._

_But he was surprised that she knew, she could see that._

_“Maria told me about Sarah. And I-” She started to explain._

_“Ellie!” He cut her again. Daring her to continue with a glare. “You’re treading on some mighty thin ice here,” he warned her, lowering his voice to a threatening tone._

_His vulnerability surprised her. But she understood it: the memory of her lost close ones felt sacred too. And she needed him to understand that he couldn’t let her down out of fear like this. It wasn’t fair._

_“I’m sorry about your daughter Joel, but I have lost people too.” She said, feeling more confident, trying to prevent Joel from making her feel like a dumb kid again._

_He missed the point though._

_“You have no idea what loss is,” he said, grinding his teeth._

_His anger was not directed against her, she knew that. He sounded angry at… fate? At whoever decided that he had to live without his child, that he had to witness her die when he survived. And this, she could understand._

_But she felt hurt nonetheless that he would be so selfish as to sweep away her own feelings like that, like it was nothing. That he didn’t think she had reason to be scared of bonding with people and that she wasn’t mourning too. Really her whole life so far felt like it had been about witnessing the people she loved disappearing. Sometimes, it even made her wonder if it was really worth living…_

_She couldn’t let him be so wrong about her. And she couldn’t let him go like that._

_“Everyone I have cared for has either died or left me” she said, trying to control her voice and keep it firm, while tears were already clouding her vision. Her mother, Riley, Sam, Henry… Now him? She felt angry. So angry that he thought their loss didn’t mean anything. Angry that he too was bailing on her._

_“Everyone - fucking except for you” she said, pushing him off._

_It hurt so much because it was_ him _telling her that she was to go on with someone else. That he was letting her down willingly. He who had been by her side for so many weeks already, through so many things. She couldn’t bear the idea of being left behind once again._

_“Don’t tell me that I would be safer with someone else - because the truth is I would just be more scared.” She pleaded._

_He was not her father. Fuck no._

_But at that moment, she felt like him leaving her would mean the curse would go on for the rest of her life. As if him leaving her at that precise moment meant never ever again in her life would she get to care about someone who would stick around long enough for her to feel safe again. And she couldn’t bear the idea of being alone like that._

* * *

She liked the boy. Like, really liked him even though they were still strangers. She liked him like she had liked Sam, and, in a way she couldn’t quite explain because it seemed so unexpected and so remote, she liked him the same way she liked J.J.

When they’d walked through the forest, she looked at him in silence trying to understand where this feeling came from. He’d saved her. There was no way she could twist the reality to make her think she didn’t owe him her life. Yet, she didn’t feel like she had to repay him for that. More exactly, she didn’t think that the way he made her feel like she had to help and protect him had anything to do with repayment. It was a natural need to care for the kid. 

Sometimes, she wondered if Joel had felt the same way with her.

* * *

“Alright, next one. Why are teddy bears never hungry?”

Just hearing the question made him go for another hysterical laughter.

“Wait!” She chuckled, “don't laugh, you haven’t even heard the answer!”

But he kept laughing, holding his sides until he could control the erratic shaking of his body. Finding jokes to make him laugh was easy, she didn't even have to force herself. Which surprised her. 

He brought a hand to his eye to rub a tear off and sighed.

"Okay, shoot!"

She looked at him sideways before returning her attention on the road. She waited a bit for the effect.

“Because they’re always stuffed!” 

His high pitched laughter made her grin. He was a good audience.

“Alright, alright!" He breathed between two bursts, holding his hands up in the air before pressing them down on his lap. "Can we stop? I really need to…” He added with a blush.

She rolled her eyes and slowed the car down. She stopped in the shade of a little thicket of dry trees along the road. 

“Stay close!” She ordered him as he stepped hastily out of the car. 

She got out too, grabbing her gun and the map, and peered around them. 

This portion of the highway was deserted, except for a few cars here and there, completely burnt for the most part. She saw Max disappearing behind a tree and kept watching the horizon. The heat made the line of the road dissolve in a blurred dance. She was glad they didn’t have to cross this land by foot. 

They’d been on the road for four hours, having encountered only a few portions of collapsed highway bridges or more scorched lines of cars. If things stayed this way, they would be in the Tahoe area before nightfall. At least, they had enough gas to make it there. 

The only catch was that they had now entered an area with a denser net of cities. Ellie had no idea how big and spread these cities were, but by the look of the map, she knew they had more chances now to run into hordes, straggling infected, or factions. She had little hope that any group of humans in the area would be more friendly than the WLF or the Rattlers. What she saw with Joel years ago brought nothing to back her hopes. But, god she was tired of being shot on sight… 

Once they’d make it past the Sacramento area though, they’d start heading East and things would go easy from then on. First, they would be back in the forest: it would be easier to find food and shelter for the nights. And with the car, they’d go through the flat valleys on the other side of the mountain range in just a day. Then in no time they would be back in a territory she knew. 

An unexpected gust of hot wind made the dry leaves in the trees rattle. It made her look up from the map and suspiciously observe her surroundings. How long had she been spacing out their route like that? 

“Max?” She called out. 

There was no response. 

She tossed the map on the seat and crouched against the car, just in case, while listening to the noises around her. She focused her attention on the trees, where the boy had run minutes earlier. The thicket was denser than it looked from the road. She slipped through the first branches and called Max again. 

Hearing nothing, she progressed down the embankment of the road, following the broken branches the boy had left behind him. Who needed to go that far to take a leak?

“What the h-” She muttered when she caught sight of him.

She looked around one last time, making sure there was no imminent danger and stood up out of the tree line to walk firmly to the boy across a field of low grass. She was angry at herself for having let him scare her.

“I told you to stay close!” She snapped.

He looked up at her surprised.

“I-I know, but...”

He pointed to the trees behind him. His cheeks and T-shirt were covered with wet stains. 

Plums…

“I thought… I was going to bring you some…”

She placed a hand on the boy’s shoulder and pushed him lightly in the direction of the car.

“You can’t do that, it’s not safe out here.”

He bent his head down, and started walking back to the road. 

She sighed and grabbed several ripe fruits from the branches and tucked them in the front pocket of her backpack. She glanced around her one last time. 

And then she saw it. About ten yards from the plum tree. He was leaning against a dead, leafless trunk, invisible from the tree line. 

For a fraction of a second she thought he was asleep, but when she crouched and shifted closer, she spotted the unmistakable red stain on his chest. The unnatural relaxed posture of his neck and shoulders. 

What an awkward place to be shot dead…

He wasn’t dressed like a soldier but had a machine gun next to him nonetheless. The dark red stain on his shirt was dry and the body was stiff. He had been dead for a few days only. She took the ammo in the gun and patted his pockets, receiving an angry buzz from the flies that had already started to claim the body. On his chest, she found a letter partially stained with his blood. She opened it carefully, and read.

> _Jake,_
> 
> _It’s time to retreat to the Yosemite Valley. FEDRA got their hands on Cathy and Jay, the gang is disbanded. They’ve started to send patrols out of the Sacramento QZ to control the area. They’re trying to prevent any new insurrection. We scared them but we didn’t expect the backfire._
> 
> _What’s left of us will join you in the former base. Make sure you and your guys clear all the buildings this time._
> 
> _B._

She stuffed the letter in her backpack and made her way back to the car. _A QZ in Sacramento…_ She’d never heard of it. If FEDRA still ran the place though, she was not going to risk approaching and get caught. Once in the car, she glanced one more time at the map. They had to leave Interstate 5 and start to head East on route 88. It was their best shot, even though smaller roads were usually more crowded with abandoned cars. 

* * *

“Jesus fuck!” She cursed loudly one more time.

The boy glanced at her sideways. He didn’t know what to do or say and felt utterly useless in the passenger seat. 

Ever since they made it to the piedmont valley, the road had become treacherous. The scorched, flat and dry landscape had made way to taller pine trees and evergreen vegetation. While the asphalt was mostly covered with a sandy dust of ashes and dirt in the rest of California, nature here tried to engulf the road. Except for the occasional abandoned wrecks, it was covered with boulders, eaten by grass and roots, crackled and worked by the rain and small streams of river escaping from the woods. 

This time half the road had collapsed and slid down a ravine. Ellie had slowly navigated along the truck that had decided to end its journey right next to this weak spot on the road. In a long agonizing high pitched grinding noise, she had scraped the car against the truck all the way until the road was back to a broader size. 

Hence, the curse. 

If it had not been for the difficulties they’d found on the road, the boy would have spent the whole trip across the mountain looking around him at the tall trees. It was nothing like what he had ever seen in Santa Barbara. He loved it.

When the chaos on the road seemed to settle down, when Ellie seemed to relax behind the wheel, he allowed himself to idly enjoy the mountainous landscape through the window. 

“It’s pretty here,” he said quietly.

She scoffed and seemed to look around them through the windshield, leaning forward against the wheel.

She sat back against the seat and let out a deep sigh without answering, her eyes focusing back on the road. There was now a shade of nostalgia on her face. After a minute of silence, when Max realized she wasn’t going to say anything back, he turned his attention back on the tall trees on his side of the road, hoping he had not upset her. 

The forest became less dense, to the point that he could almost spot the remains of a road a few yards across. With awe, he caught a glimpse of a running doe, and suddenly, there were no trees anymore. Just the flat, shining, emerald surface of a mountain lake. On the other side, a large cliff reflected the warm colors of the descending sun. It was wonderful. 

“You’ll like Jackson.” He finally heard the woman say, her voice still bearing these sad notes.

She slowed the car down to turn right on what used to be a road leading to a small parking lot. “We’ll stop here for the night.”

He nodded. 

_Jackson…_

The asphalt had disappeared under a blanket of moss, dirt and grass. Save for an old truck almost entirely covered with brambles, the old parking lot was empty. 

“Stay here,” she ordered as she exited the car.

He watched her scout the perimeter, silenced gun in hand. The parking lot was located right by the shore, which meant they had a direct view on half of their surroundings. The woman slipped out of sight for several minutes until she reappeared, dragging a tired khaki tarp behind her. He got out of the car and followed her instructions when she showed him how to place it on the car in order to hide it.

It was just for precaution, she said. 

He followed her in the forest nearby and watched her set a few traps. He would have to ask her to teach him.

“We’ll see tomorrow if we get anything out of these,” she grunted as she rose back on her feet after setting the last one. 

It was getting dark when they walked back to the car. Max was carrying a pile of dry dead branches they would use to make a fire. The darkness made him feel uneasy: there could be so many things hiding in the forest… It seemed strange to think it had been so appealing during the afternoon, when he was sheltered behind the dusty window of the car. 

The night on the mountain was chill. Max sighed with relief once the heat glowing from the middle of the small pile of wood finally reached his hands. But even better than the warmth the fire provided, he felt proud. _He_ had lit it this time, _on his own!_

The woman rummaged through her backpack and tossed him a granola bar. 

“Thanks!”

“Sure.”

He looked at her silently. She had not been a big talker ever since she woke up, but something seemed to have changed after they reached the mountain. She seemed more often lost in her thoughts, as if brooding on some ideas or memories. He had liked it better when she was cracking jokes in the car. This morning seemed so far away. 

“You’re not eating?” He asked tentatively.

“Nah!” She waved down and shrugged. “You should eat though. S’not good to sleep on an empty stomach.”

“But -”

“Seriously, eat.”

There was a final tone in her voice that made him look down and obey. The bar was stale but he chewed it slowly, knowing he wouldn’t get anything else for dinner. 

When he was done, she took a bottle of alcohol out of her bag and laid a piece of cloth on the ground next to the fire. She slowly undid her bandage and disinfected her wounded fingers. Even though he couldn’t distinguish much in the poor light of the fire, he was glad she waited until he was done eating. She patted the wound by her hip with the alcohol-soaked cloth and quickly repacked everything.

He imitated her when she silently leaned back against the car, and lifted her head to look at the dark sky. 

“I never knew there were so many,” he said.

“Stars?”

He nodded, although he wasn’t sure she could see him.

“Some people say that in a night with no clouds and no moon, you could see up to five thousands stars.”

He looked at her impressed. _Five thousands…_ He thought again about his first night out of the walls of the villa in Santa Barbara, when he was driving the boat and had discovered for the first time the immensity of the night sky compared to what the small opening of his window had allowed him to see for as long as he could remember. She pointed at the space in front of them, towards the West, and whispered.

“See this area with very few stars, just above the trees? There’s a series of stars, a sort of rectangle with a crooked line going to the left side.”

She drew a shape in the dirt between them and he looked for it in the sky.

“It’s called Ursa Major. It’s part of it at least.”

“Ursa Major,” he repeated. “I think I see it.”

He pointed at the stars and drew the strange shape, stopping on each of the seven stars. 

“What does it mean?”

“Great Bear,” she said with a smile.

“It doesn’t look like a bear!”

“Yea, right?”

He shook his head. 

“It’s also called the Big Dipper.” 

“Ah, that one makes more sense.”

She laughed softly. 

“Is this something they teach in Jackson?” He asked unsure. 

She turned her head to face him and she looked at him with an intensity that made him uncomfortable. _Should he not have mentioned Jackson?_ A very light smile appeared on her lips and she stared at the sky again.

“Nah. I read that in a book.”

“Are there more? More… bears in the sky, I mean.”

She chuckled lightly.

“Actually yes. There’s one called the Little Bear, it’s just above… this way,” she said, pointing higher in the sky. “Same shape, but it’s harder to see, and it’s smaller, less bright.”

He squinted in the direction she pointed but wasn’t sure of what he was supposed to see.

“I really don’t get why they’re called bears…” He sighed.

“There are other animals too, you know. For example, just above the Big Dipper, here, there’s a dragon.”

She drew a large winding shape in the air with her index finger.

“I like dragons,” he smiled. 

He stared at the sky and tried to imagine other animals, arbitrarily connecting the shining dots above him into intelligible shapes. He liked the night and the darkness around them better knowing bears and dragons watched over them from up there. They’d have been good companions in Santa Barbara… 

* * *

The splash of water on her face sent a welcome cold wave down her spine. She’d had a nightmare again. One she hadn’t had in a long time. One that involved David. 

She raised her shaky hand above the water, fingers extended, and waited for her breathing to calm down. She tried to remove the memory of his hands on her throat, of the weight of his body grounding her down to the floor, of his foul breath on her face… of the unexpected emptiness in her hand, where there should have been that machete. 

She breathed in and out again until her hand was still and the memory locked back in her head. 

She pushed herself back onto her feet and walked toward the car where she grabbed her backpack and walked to the forest. The boy was still soundly sleeping on the backseat.

Her stomach let out an angry growl when she found a small furiously gesticulating rabbit caught in one of her traps. She snapped its neck and attached it to her belt. Moving silently across the forest, she picked the rest of her unsuccessful traps, grabbed more wood and made her way back to the old parking lot.

Having spent the night there was a gamble. She had only relied on the multiple sights she caught of wild animals in the forest to conclude that there was little danger of finding many infected in the area. If she was wrong, they could easily be trapped in the old car. And given how far she’d push it through this huge leg of road they’d traveled in one day, she wasn’t even sure the engine would comply if they had to get out of this place in a hurry. 

But she couldn’t wait until they found something more appropriate. She was exhausted when she’d stopped the car. She’d felt on edge witnessing the boy’s awe at the mountainous landscape because it had bitterly reminded her of herself. A thousand years ago, it seemed.

She reignited the fire and, having taken the knife from the boy’s backpack, she gutted and skinned the rabbit before cooking it over the flame. She ate a handful of juicy blackberries she had picked on the brambles while she waited for the meat to be ready. 

The memory of her nightmare was long gone by the time the boy’s sleepy face popped out of the car. 

* * *

Carson City. Another gamble on their trip. The detour around the city would be no guarantee of safety and a waste of gas and time. So she decided to go through it anyway.

It was a mistake. 

As soon as the highway reached the surrounding of the city, she realized that the long, chaotic lines of cars and trucks would be impossible to overcome. She had seen numerous scenes like this during her trips across the country. She didn’t really know _where_ people fleeing the cities had tried to go, but they’d been quickly stuck in car crashes and impromptu traffic jams that would last for decades. Sometimes you could see these almost 30 years-decayed skeletons still trapped in the cars.

Carson City was no exception. 

Before turning back to find another way around through the suburbs, they siphoned several gas tanks and swept through the closest cars. She only found a torn and stained detailed map of Nevada.

* * *

Gun within hands-reach, she maneuvered the car through the streets, remaining on the lookout. In comparison with the highway, the city was mostly empty, as if all the cars had been transplanted on the highway. She asked the boy to have his gun on point, ready to shoot if necessary. She spotted several groups of runners near a few houses which made her even more eager to make it back to the wild plains past the city. 

Runners meant two things. Either there was a horde somewhere nearby or had been - yet with a bit of luck, the horde was moving westwards and they would not follow it nor be followed by it. Or there were still human beings around in the city, ready to be infected. Which meant a potentially aggressive organized group. Two things Ellie wasn’t fond of.

Driving through a city like this was difficult: she had to find a balance between moving fast enough for it to be over quickly and maneuver cautiously in order to avoid causing a commotion that would call attention to them. Or lose the car stupidly in an accident. The longer they spent in the city, the greater the risk of being detected. 

As often, things picked up in a few seconds.

“On the right!” Max called suddenly, retracting from the car’s window.

She quickly looked in the direction he pointed. 

“Shit!”

A horde. 

There was no time to lose because in a couple of seconds the infected would have spotted the moving vehicle and, like a deadly flock of sheep, they’d follow each other and run towards the two of them, flooding them and trapping them in the car.

She pressed her foot down on the accelerator and the car leaped forward with a loud roar. As the car rushed down the blocks, she found herself very glad that, unlike many other cities, Carson City was rather clear of debris and holes in the road. 

Infected kept running on their sides from adjacent streets, but she managed to put a good distance between the large group Max spotted and themselves. She had to slalom between the runners and clickers sprinting towards the car. Blood sprayed on the windshield when she was too short on space to avoid the bodies. She found herself praying internally that the numerous hits on the car would not break it.

“Shoot them when they get too close!” She reminded Max, hoping she could count on him.

From the corner of her eyes, she saw him nod several times and grab his gun with his two hands. But he was still a softy, she could tell. He was young and innocent. He wasn’t a killer. 

When she finally spotted an opening, she veered to the right and hoped the highway was both close by and free of car lines. Their car wasn’t high and strong enough to endure a rodeo on the dirt trail along the road.

* * *

“It was freaking awesome!” He shouted, the excitation still running wild in his veins. The wind on his legs made him feel like they were flying.

Oh, he had been scared. That clicker appeared out of nowhere and threw itself through his window, spraying him with small pieces of glass and drops of blood. It growled right next to his ear before he ducked, and then tried to reach him with its bloody, skin-torn, fucking scary arm. If he took time to think about it, it was pretty certain he would have died there, nails and teeth sinking through his skin, had he been a tiny bit bigger. If the window had not actually stuck the clicker like a slave on a pillory, he wouldn’t have stood a chance on this side of the compartment. 

But then he was excited now every time he replayed in his head how Ellie had immediately pulled her gun out, pointed it at the clicker and shot. Without a single hesitation, her eyes barely had left the road. And while his ears rang loudly because of the detonation, she kept driving and pulled her leg out from under her and strongly kicked the door open. Like a fucking hero.

This had resulted in the car jolting to the right, the open door hitting the low wall bordering the street, which immediately sent it flying off its hinges along with the dead clicker. Good riddance. But then as soon as Ellie steered the car back into the middle of the street and resumed her slalom, he realized he was completely exposed.

Being so close to the danger sent an electroshock through his body and he finally found it in him to fire his gun. He didn’t aim very well. Actually only one of his five bullets made it into a runner that was barely ten feet away from the car before he was out of ammo. But then she tossed him her gun and somehow he did better.

Now they were back on the highway. The groans had long disappeared, as well as the ringing in his ears. All that was left of this episode was the pumping of his heart, still racing, and the breathtaking void on his right side, where there used to be a door.

“Yea, you did good,” she said with a lopsided smile, extending her hand to ruffle his short hair.

He laughed at the friendly gesture and pushed her hand back to the wheel. 

He looked at the empty gun on his lap and smiled proudly.


	4. C. Borealis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have several TW for this chapter, even though this is probably going to be the shortest of all six. If this is something important to you, I would advise you go check the notes at the end. 
> 
> I owe a massive thank you to N1NJ4 who accepted to be put at work like never before on this chapter! I struggled a LOT here! But I'm happy with what we came up with and I hope you will enjoy reading it too!

_"Do you have to do that?"_

_Ellie’s voice was a whisper next to Dina’s ear. She imagined the question made her frown as she felt Dina squeeze her hand lightly but firmly._

_"Yea, I do. It's important."_

_Ellie let out a deep sigh, a breath she had been holding without realizing it._

_"You know you should too." Dina added._

_Her tone was soft but Ellie could hear she was annoyed. It wasn't the first time they'd had this conversation._

_She buried her face in the neck of the woman she held in her arms, positioned between her legs, the two reclining on the couch by the fireplace. She let go of Dina's warm hand and closed her arms around her shoulders, hugging her for her own comfort._

_Dina stayed silent, resting the back of her head on Ellie's shoulder. She brought her hands back to her abdomen, caressing her swollen stomach._

_"You need to talk about these things, babe. You can't keep them all inside."_

_In guise of an answer, Ellie simply groaned against the warm skin of her neck._

_Listening to Dina talking about Jesse was difficult. It brought back memories. Brought her back there, in a swirl of smells of dust and mold and blood and gunpowder._

_That smell covered, hid all the other memories of him, no matter how hard she tried._

_She hugged Dina tighter, blinking to hold back the tears that burned her eyes. Dina sighed again._

_"El…"_

_Thinking of Jesse -a happy Jesse- was impossible. It was like digging in quicksand looking for something long buried. Every single shovelful was immediately replaced by a new layer of thick sandy mud, sunken and forgotten in the midst of a darker memory. Each time his name was spoken, she’d feel immediately trapped in this dark corner of her mind,drowned under the weight of his lifeless, surprised stare, and the smells and the guilt and…_

_This goddamn guilt she could never shake. How long had it been since she’d felt no guilt from being alive? Had she ever felt free of this weight? She had started to doubt it. And the feeling had worsened after the events in Seattle._

_She didn’t mean to cry. She didn’t mean to prevent Dina from telling tales of her kid’s father._

_She wished it wasn’t this hard._

_“I’m sorry,” she whispered in a broken voice, snuggling closer._

_Dina shifted on the couch clumsily, sitting up with a light grunt and turning to face Ellie. Her apparent embarrassment to maneuver her 8-month pregnant stomach made Ellie exhale a small laugh against her will. She wiped her nose, meeting Dina’s gaze. Ellie hated herself for forcing Dina to take care of her like that when she had enough on her plate already._

_“I’m sorry,” she whispered again, finally able to swallow her tears back._

_Dina shook her head and grabbed Ellie’s wrist to pull her closer. Her embrace was warm and comforting, as always._

_“It’ll get better, babe.”_

* * *

Maybe stopping after Elko was another mistake. Maybe she hadn’t realized they had already been so lucky ever since leaving Santa Barbara and they had used up all of their chances. 

Like many other cities, Elko looked empty when they drove through it as they’d continued to follow the meandering Humboldt river through the valley. There were more cars than in other places, more tags on the walls, more roadblocks than in other cities. But there wasn’t any sign of recent human occupation. 

When the houses and depots became scarce again and eventually replaced by the boring plains of low bushes they had seen all day long already, she decided that the sun was low enough in the sky and she was tired enough for this to be a good place to stop for the night. 

She spotted a small thicket of trees south of the road, not far from the river shore, along with a couple of old buildings that, if she was to believe the sign that still stood above the road, used to form a ranch. "Welcome to The Grizzly Ranch!" the sign said, its enthusiastic greeting long washed out by the sun. She stopped the car at a good distance from the first building, parked it facing the direction they were headed in case they needed to get away.

This time she asked Max to follow her as she swept the buildings, making sure no straggling infected risked sneaking up on them while they were asleep. 

They found six. 

She took them down, silently, one by one, using Max’s knife and they looked for supplies around them. She found a few pills, a new jacket, a partially filled first aid kit and bandages. She needed them: keeping her hand up on the wheel made the spot where her fingers were missing throb. The pain had woken up after she had to drive single-handedly in Carson City. 

She wasted no time putting the jacket on but shoved the rest in her backpack. She would take care of her hand later, once they were done settling for the night.

They found a couple of apple trees behind the main building. The branches were loaded with pink and yellow fruit. 

She smiled lightly as she watched Max run towards the trees and climb up, reaching for the closest fruit, biting happily in it. The morning rabbit was long digested and it was about time they found something to eat. 

She joined him as he jumped back on the ground and she reached for the fruits on the branches, dropping several in her backpack before bringing one to her mouth. 

It happened exactly when she took the first bite from the apple.

When her teeth sunk into the flesh of the fruit and she felt the juice squirt into her mouth. When the sweet acidity sent a little, simple, enjoyable jolt to her brain that made her close her eyes to let the pleasure of eating take over any other feeling she’d been carrying. Hunger, fear, alertness, sadness, longing, regrets… All just washed away for a split second of plentitude.

Precisely _when_ she took the first bite in the apple, they heard - _she_ heard- the loud unexpected bang of a gunshot. 

All at once, she turned her head to the road where the sound came from, caught sight of the five armed men running towards them, ducked and grabbed the strap of her backpack, ready to throw it over her shoulder, and grabbed Max’s arm to pull him with her to run for cover.

But the boy didn’t run.

He collapsed, head first and for a split second, what Ellie saw in front of her was not the boy who had saved her life a couple of days ago but Jesse. Her friend. The same terrible, terrifying whole in the middle of his face. 

“No, no, no!” Ellie whispered in panic, patting the boy’s face.

This had to be one of her nightmares. Maybe she had, somehow, fallen asleep back in the car or in the ranch’s main building. 

It couldn’t be.

_Not again, not again, not again..._

A second loud bang sent gravel up in the air next to her feet and forced her to take off.

She ran.

* * *

_Later that same night, Ellie laid awake in the dark. Dina and her swollen belly were soundly asleep by her side._

_Like many nights, she had woken up from a nightmare. Yet this time, her heart wasn’t racing, nor was her breath. She wasn’t even sweating. This time, for once, she had not disturbed Dina’s sleep._

_She’d been dreaming of Jesse. Somehow, good memories of him had resurfaced once she had let her guard down. Memories of him laughing with her, drinking. Memories of their patrols together. And then the memories had faded into imaginary conversations that had ended up shoving her mind back down to reality._

_She sighed and rubbed her face with her two hands, trying to scrape the images away. But the silent darkness of the night in Dina’s small house seemed to trap her thoughts inside. The silence contrasted with the shouting echoes in her ears just seconds ago. It amplified them until Ellie felt she was back there._

How many times?

_She felt like the question had been swirling in her mind all night long, shouted at her by invisible voices._

_How many times could she... would she keep on escaping death at others’ expense?_

_The question had haunted her, followed her for years. Waking her up at night, poisoning her dreams. More after Seattle now than ever before._

_It was not that she thought she didn’t deserve to survive. Hadn’t there beenmany times when she’d earned that right? Many times she’d proven she could earn her own survival and legitimately escape death._

_Like running away from infected in the deserted streets of Boston, for example, running until she found a shelter, a door to lock or block behind her, or soldiers or Fireflies that would take care of the threat for her as she sneaked around back into the military school._

_Like shooting the assaillants, the ones trying to kill her, be they human or infected, because it’d be either them or her. Shooting, choking or stabbing, anything to remove the direct threat._

_Like being helped, sheltered, covered by a friend. She’d fall through a floor and they’d be by her side, helping her get back on her feet, watching for danger as she’d be patching up her wounds, like she would do for them._

_These instances were fair ways to survive. Alone or as a team. Times where escaping death didn’t take a toll on her life, because she’d have earned it._

_And then there were crucial times when she should have died. But didn’t. Because someone else gave their life for her, because, somehow, consciously or not, she’d stolen whatever time they had left on earth and kept it for herself._

_She should’ve died in that mall in Boston, holding Riley’s hand until they both turned, but she hadn’t. She had remained perfectly sane while she watched her friend give into madness. She’d stayed fully lucid when she sunk her mother’s knife in her friend’s throat while they wrestled on the ground. She hadn’t lost her mind even after the adrenaline died in her veins and she’d run away from the mall, leaving what remained of her friend on the floor, a glimpse of what she should have become._

_She should’ve died in that hospital in Salt Lake City, sacrificing herself for the greater good, giving a meaning to her stolen extra-time, making Riley’s, Tess’ or Sam’s death worth something. But instead she’d let Joel care so much for her that he’d bargained his own life and that of dozens of Fireflies to keep her alive, buying her two years of complete, foolish oblivion._

_She could’ve died and Jesse could’ve survived Seattle. She_ should _have died and Jesse should’ve survived. Because it was fairer this way. Because only chance and a terrible timing had made him the victim out of the two targets. Because she had been, and remained, the one who least deserved it. Instead, she had watched him drop dead on the floor while she made it out. Bearing the weight of his death on her shoulders, adding to that of Riley’s, Joel’s, and countless unnamed men and women who’d given their lives for her before._

_She squeezed her eyes shut, trying to calm the flow of thoughts. She needed to find a sense in it all. Understand why things had been the way they were, why she was still alive and others were not… Understanding this felt like the only way to lift the crushing weight of her guilt._

_“I don’t believe in god,” she’d said before. “I don’t believe in luck,” she’d also said to Dina._

_But could she believe in redemption?_

* * *

She heard more bullets whistle by her as she kept running towards the hills, hoping to find cover. She passed a partially collapsed bridge over the river and the vegetation grew denser for several yards. She dived in, landing hard on her elbows and going prone in the shrubs and low bushes of silver leaves. She crawled under their cover. Away, as fast as she could, unable to look behind her.

The dry branches dug, bit into the skin of her cheeks, scalp and arms like hungry nails. Dead thorns and pointy rocks scraped the flesh of her palms and the skin of her knees through the fabric of her jeans while she clawed the ground hoping to put as much distance as possible between her and her pursuers.

Her deep breathing sent dust flying in her face, in her eyes and her open mouth, threatening to make her cough. She had to stop to catch her breath. Maybe that was fine, maybe the men were far enough already?

But she heard a branch snap a few steps behind her and barely had the time to reach for the hunter’s knife, still in her back pocket, before a large hand grabbed her ankle and yanked, pulling her closer. 

A face appeared in her field of vision. Red bushy beard, scarred streaks across the face. And angry, cruel eyes. She fought back, kicking the hand with her free foot, kicking the face. A laugh, and she was pulled towards the man again. She tried to get a hold on the frail trunks next to her, but the two missing fingers made it impossible for her to maintain her grip. 

The man continued to drag her on the ground while she wriggled helplessly to free her ankle. Then he stopped, looked around him and before she could do or say anything, he kicked her in the face. 

The world around her dissolved in a blur for a few seconds. From afar, she felt his weight on top of her, pinning her to the ground. She felt his fingers pressing on her cheeks while he grabbed her face and forced her to look at him. She heard the buckle of his belt through the ringing in her ears as he used his other hand to undo his pants. And then, distant still, before she could even think of doing anything, the thud of the blade piercing through his temple. 

Another thud, her blade, his neck. And again and again and again. 

Until he collapsed and she pushed hard to roll him on his side, freeing her body from his weight. 

She heard one of the other men calling out a name further away but didn't wait for the silence to alert them. She jumped to her feet and started running again.

Her face felt cold as the wind blew on the wet skin of her cheeks. She wiped them with the back of her hand. She couldn't tell if it was blood or tears. 

* * *

She kept on running even after night fell, which she barely registered. Her lungs felt like brands: two excruciatingly hot splotches in her chest that constricted as her body gasped for air. But her mind was miles away from Elko. She was in the basement of the lodge above Jackson, pinned to the floor, replaying again and again the last moments of Joel's life. She was in Boston, fighting what used to be Riley, sometimes letting her bite the flesh of her neck, sometimes digging the blade of her mother's knife in her throat. She was in Seattle beating Nora's face to a pulp, the woman no longer able to speak by the time she finally complied. She was in a cold, cold Winter in an unnamed city, repetitively planting a machete in a face that no longer looked like David's. She was in Pittsburgh, sprayed with Sam’s blood as he was shot by his brother, watching Henry’s blood and brain splatter the walls as he shot himself. She was in Seattle again, running through wooden doors, watching Jesse's lifeless face, Tommy's hopeless face, Dina's… 

They swirled in her head, taking turns or all at once, places and temporalities mixing in a confused nightmare, removing her from Elko, blocking out the memory of the boy collapsing to the ground. They ran along with her, or blocked her way forcing her to make unexpected turns, to go back on track or press forward. And the further she ran, the closer they seemed to get, pressing by her side, whispering, whimpering, laughing, shouting in her ears, covering her own cries. She felt like her chest was going to explode, like her head was going to split in two and leave her mind blank forever.

She pressed the heels of her hands into her temples, trying to relieve some of the building pressure. Trying to create a vice to keep the pieces of herself from flying apart. From splattering against the wall like Henry’s, or splattering against her skin like Max’s. Her heart hammered in her chest as the image of a golf club, dripping blood, overtook her vision. Her muffled screams once again strained against her throat, eyes blurring with tears. She pressed to keep them in. She pressed further to squeeze them out. She could barely make it out over the rise of the whistle, like the sudden surge of cricket noises when the temperature is just right. Incessant.

“You need to talk about these things, babe. You can’t keep them all inside.”

She wanted to scream. To yell and scream and cry and break something. _She_ was the one locked inside. The one who couldn’t get out. She couldn’t get out of the hands and boots on her shoulders to save Joel. Or of the clutches of her best friend and that vacant fucking stare. She couldn’t stop seeing Nora’s pulverized face, the little bubbles of blood as she finally circled the location on the map with her bloody, twisted fingers. Nora’s blood that was still on her, staining her flesh as if a dye, another permanent tattoo to wear through life. She could see it, the visible evidence of the guilt and anger and shame and suffering. She had their blood on her hands. Every last one. 

“You wasted it,” she heard come from her left, dropping her hands and dodging beefy arms flying at her from the right. She swerved, narrowly missing the thick braid as it whipped by her cheek.

She had everyone’s blood, except the one that mattered, the one who violently stole her family. The one who fucked her sense of normalcy with a nine-iron. 

She was a monster. _She_ was a monster.

She felt the rumble in the voice behind her neck, that familiar Texas drawl causing her hair to stand on end. “I guess no matter how hard you try, you can’t escape your past.”

She tried. She tried and tried and tried and tried. She felt the echo of her own voice in her ears as she pleaded. She could never escape it. The visions only became crueler and more frequent. They held their grip on her reality and made it increasingly difficult to return to the present and return to herself. She was trapped inside the never-ending cycle, the never-ending nightmare, forced to face the consequences of her actions.

“It’ll get better, babe.”

The words felt soft as they brushed against her cheek, a light caress from her past life. She needed them and she needed her. She still didn’t know how she did it. How she was so strong, how she bounced back so quickly after Seattle. She knew Dina had been hurting, and she remembered the nights after they returned when they couldn’t sleep apart - when they each needed the soothing arms of the other to combat the tear-stained cheeks. But as the weeks passed, Dina’s condition improved and Ellie seemed to be left in the dust. Even as the baby’s due date approached, she was still bloody and raw and squashed down those feelings so far she hadn’t yet heard the rock hit the bottom. She needed to be strong for her family even though she was flying apart. 

She dodged another apparition from her past, as it careened through her path, nearly crashing into her shoulder. At the same moment, the shapes in the darkness shifted abruptly. Her body hurtled forward as her foot struck the dastardly root. Ellie felt a sharp pain on the side of her head as the earth rushed up to meet her. She could hear the screams getting closer as she scrambled backward in the dirt, grabbing fistfuls to propel herself forward. 

Ellie barely noticed when they stopped. When the whirlwind of her turbulent thoughts calmed and the last sound was the blood echoing in her ears. She looked around frantically, expecting to be blindsided by her demons. She felt a hand on her knee and struggled to return her gaze forward. The babbling of her son broke her resolve. She lifted her gaze to face them, eyes still wild and frenzied. Dina was crouched in front of her, one hand resting on her knee, the other holding J.J. to her side. 

“Babe,” the word washed over her and Ellie shut her eyes momentarily. “You need to talk about these things.”

Eyes still closed Ellie shook her head. She couldn’t. It was too hard and too painful. She managed to stammer out an “I can’t” before her words got caught in a sob. 

“Yes, you can.”

Ellie squeezed her eyes tighter. “I’m not like you Dina, I don’t think I can.”

She felt Dina’s hand on her cheek, her fingers sliding under her chin and directing Ellie to face her. Another brush against her skin almost left Ellie leaning into the sensation. “Do you trust me?”

Her eyes flew open and she stilled, remembering the dumb trust falls that they had decided was a good idea after one particularly drunken bonfire. The dumb trust falls that Ellie took way too seriously as she caught her best friend in her arms, and yet had to be cajoled into doing so herself. 

“I do, you know I do,” she repeated the same response she gave her that night.

She sensed Dina shifting closer to her, and could feel her body and the smaller, warm body of the infant pressed against her. “Then let your family be there for you.” 

Ellie felt her chest constrict with grief, barely suppressing the sobs. She threw her arms around the two and felt them envelop her as the sobs turned into heavy, heart-wrenching bawling. Eventually, the weeping quieted and the surrounding noises faded into a low buzz, muted by the soft hum of Dina’s words.

* * *

It was still night when she opened her eyes. She could feel the frozen tears still stuck in her eyelashes as her field of vision expanded. The cold of the night contrasted with her burning skin, feeding the scorching sensation. 

She didn't know what woke her up, nor did she remember when she had stopped running to lie down on the ground. She frowned and the tension in her face muscles sent a wave of pain to her brain. The side of her face that was pressed to the dirt was painful. She considered her situation. She was lying on her stomach, limbs sprawled, face and knees painful. She must have fallen while she was running…

She slowly rolled on her side and sat up while making sure she still had her backpack and the hunter’s knife. She paused when she saw the blood on the blade, feeling the threatening nightmares creep back up to her mind.

Strands of hair obstructed her vision as a breeze brushed against her cheek and circled around her, filling her nose with a reminiscent smell of salt that faded as quickly as it came. The bitterness on the back of her tongue lasted a little longer. A bird called out a greeting but it sounded harsh and grating against the otherwise silent starry sky.

She shook her head, forcing herself to resist these memories. Something had woken her up, she needed to stay focused. She traded the knife for her silenced gun and slowly rose to her feet, remaining crouched in order to stay under the cover of the bushes. Her legs felt sore from running. 

She peered around her looking for an intruder. 

_Please don't be one the motherfuckers…_

They were about twenty yards away from her, unaware of her presence. Three large dark sheep wearing enormous spiraling horns. She sighed with relief. The wild animals were idly eating on the dry bushes, branches snapping under their light hooves. No threat. 

Ellie watched them for a while, trying to draw a soothing sense of calm from their peaceful aura. 

When she felt ready to resume her journey, she slowly stood up. The sheep raised their heads and looked at her for a few seconds before they resumed their activity. 

She looked up at the stars to orient herself. Small clouds foamed in the sky, partially hiding the moon from time to time. She found the Big Dipper and used it to find the polar star. She turned to leave it at her back, now facing East and the dark silhouette of a low mountain. 

She looked around one last time and was tempted to call Max’s name for him to follow but she caught herself. She tried to chase the lump in her throat taking a deep breath in and frowned her brows at the hills ahead. She started walking.

It wasn't very long before the sun started to color the horizon. She watched the sky taint with blazing hues, watched how the fluorescent pink reverberating on the low clouds slowly turned into a blaring orange announcing the orb. She watched the whole horizon progressively turn a brighter blue, almost green where the night sky and the sun-announcing halo met. She listened to the birds chirping, hidden in the vegetation, and the rustle of the wind as it raced through the bushes. She let herself sink in this contemplation, forgetting herself and the events of the night.

She wrapped her arms around herself as she continued to place one foot in front of the other. Occasionally looking down to check her footing. Occasionally looking down to avoid the bright colors of the morning.

By the time any trace of the night had disappeared, a heavy coat of bulging clouds playing hide and seek with the sun populated the sky, stirred around by a wind coming from California and pushing her back onto the road.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I usually prefer to post a story when I'm almost done writing it because there is nothing more frustrating than an abandonned project. But I decided to post the story while I was working on this 4th chapter even though I was only halfway and getting super busy at work. The reason for that is because I got a massive writing block after what happens in it. I did this to myself, I know!  
> I needed to know if it was worth getting over it or not, and I must say that your reactions and comments have really immensely helped me go through the mourning and get back to writing. So I want to say again thank you all for sharing this adventure with me and N1NJ4!
> 
> \--
> 
> Trigger Warnings :  
> \- main original character death  
> \- rape attempt


	5. Lyra

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, people, I hope you will enjoy this new chapter. It took me a while to get this chapter started but once I was in it, it almost wrote itself on its own! 
> 
> My advice: don't binge-read it. Since work is killing me at the moment, there will unfortunately be a necessary pause before the next (and final) chapter. I'm really sorry, I thought I would be able to get it all written before being submerged with life and its expectations. ⸂⸂⸜(രᴗര๑)⸝⸃⸃
> 
> As always, many many thanks to N1NJ4 for their patient corrections on my terrible typos!  
> And many thanks to you for your enthousiastic comments and kudos! (✿╹◡╹)

_ “I think I’m a bit drunk” _

_ Ellie chuckled, joining her girlfriend on the soft carpet in her room.  _

_ “Only a bit? Wow…” She closed her eyes, trying to forget the spinning ceiling above her. “Actually, I think I am too...” _

_ Cat turned her head towards Ellie and laughed loudly, her whole body shaking with each burst. Ellie laughed with her and watched her propping herself on her elbow while they locked eyes. Cat landed a hand on her cheek and softly traced Ellie's smile with her thumb. _

_ “I had a really good night.” She whispered, biting her lower lip. _

_ “Me too.”  _

_ Cat leaned in and she kissed her back eagerly. Their kiss was like a slur. The alcohol made their movements clumsy and Ellie found herself out of breath surprisingly quickly.  _

_ “You kissed me.” She said, panting softly. _

_ “I know I just did, stupid.” _

_ “No... I mean, earlier. You kissed me.”  _

_ She frowned, trying to find a way to better phrase what she meant, but her brain was working too slowly. _

_ “At the lake?”  _

_ Ellie nodded. She shivered when she felt Cat’s hand travel down her side and her fingertips caress her hip under her shirt. She reached for her wrist and softly pulled it away. She interlace their fingers to soften the gesture.  _

_ Cat sighed. _

_ “Is it a problem?”  _

_ She shrugged. _

_ “I dunno…” _

_ Was it a problem? Not really. But kissing in public was something she hadn’t anticipated, therefore she didn’t know if she was okay with them making the recent evolution of their relationship so visible. _

_ “I guess I’m just… not comfortable yet? Does that make sense?” _

_ “Can I kiss you now?” was Cat’s response.  _

_ “You just did, didn’t you?” She smiled. _

_ Cat leaned in again and kissed her once more, rolling completely on top of Ellie. Her kiss was somewhat chaste this time, as if she was conscious Ellie wasn't done with the topic. _

_ They parted but Cat remained on top of her, resting on her elbows planted on each side of Ellie’s face.  _

_ “You know, I don’t really wanna hide it. This,” she gestured between them, “this is something I want to be proud of.” _

_ She planted another light kiss on Ellie’s lips.  _

_ “When I was in the Chicago QZ, I remember they used to hang men and women who had been caught engaged in same-sex relationships. They called them the sinners.” _

_ Ellie raised her eyebrows in surprise. _

_ “That is sick…” _

_ “Yea. It is. It was horrible, the things they did to them…”  _

_ Ellie slid her arms around Cat’s waist and hugged her tight. They stayed silent for a few seconds. This wasn’t something that risked happening in Jackson, was it? No, Maria wouldn’t let that happen. They weren’t that kind of community. _

_ “Okay.” Ellie finally said, her face partially buried in Cat’s neck.  _

_ “Yea?” _

_ She nodded and rolled Cat on her back, switching positions. _

_ “I don’t know how I’m gonna tell Joel… How did you tell your parents?” _

_ Cat brushed a strand of hair away from her face in a swift movement and looked away, frowning slightly. She looked like she was replaying a scene in her head and made a little grimace before shrugging. _

_ “It wasn’t easy.” _

_ “Care to share?” _

_ “I mean”, she sighed. “I know them, I knew they were not going to…you know, hang me or anything. But it was hard knowing I was going to disappoint them.” _

_ Ellie furrowed her eyebrows. _

_ “Disappoint them?” _

_ “Yea. Like, I’m their only daughter and… well… I guess as a parent you want to make sure your kids get to be parents too eventually.” _

_ “Oh…”  _

_ That thought had never crossed her mind before. Was that how she felt about Joel? The reason why it felt so hard to open up to him about that aspect of her life? Her own family situation was much less traditional than Cat’s. Or rather, much more… post-apocalyptic-world traditional, in fact. Except for a name, a letter and a knife, she hadn’t known her mother, let alone her father, and had only ever had adoptive parental figures. And not that many. Maybe Marlene. Joel for sure, … and that was it, really. Did she feel like Joel would be disappointed because she wouldn’t be able to build her own family?  _

_ No.  _

_ It wasn’t like that. She looked up to Joel. And she wanted it to work the other way too. _

_ “Is it important for you? Like, do you want to have a family?” _

_ Cat sighed again.  _

_ “I mean obviously not now, I’m still… we’re still so young.” She laughed uncomfortably. “But yea. This is something that I find hard to give up.” _

_ Ellie nodded silently.  _

_ “Sometimes I wish I was born before the outbreak. They used to… they used to have ways for people, women, to have kids together. Without having to… you know, do it… with a guy.” _

_ Ellie leaned forward and kissed her girlfriend softly to hide her confusion. Women having kids together? How did that work? She’d have to find a book on the topic, no way she was going to ask Joel or Tommy about that…  _

_ “It’s something I’m not looking forward to.” Cat whispered sadly against her lips. _

_ “What is?” _

_ “Watching my friends grow a family of their own while I stay on the sidelines. I would feel like I’m not… contributing to this world, I guess. Like… I'm here, living my life and then when I’m dead, I didn’t really make a difference in the end. I didn’t leave anything behind, any… I don’t know. Any legacy.”  _

_ Ellie raised her eyebrows in understanding. Even if it was on different terms, she knew this feeling. The feeling that she had been given a life that was supposed to mean something. And that she had missed her chance to do what was right.  _

_ She rolled on the side, leaving Cat’s embrace to lay on her back. The ceiling started spinning again. She grabbed Cat’s hand and brought it to her mouth to kiss the flesh of her palm. _

_ Eventually she sighed bitterly. _

_ “Yea, I know what you mean…" _

* * *

Walking in the open fields of low bushes kept Ellie on edge. She hated how exposed she was, standing out in the middle of the flat valley. She hated how vulnerable she felt. Physically, because she had nowhere to hide and was turning her back to the group of armed men who had attacked them. Emotionally, because she felt too confused, too cut off from her surroundings. Her mind remained clouded with the remnants of her hallucinations and the chaos-induced confusion of the past few days. 

It felt like it'd been a dream. 

It felt like something she’d just witnessed without being a part of it. 

It felt like something her brain had made up to make sense of why she was still alive and now roaming around alone in the middle of the flat valleys of Northern Nevada, far from Santa Barbara.

Three days ago, she was chasing Abby, fighting Abby… and then letting her leave. 

And now there she was, running away from hunters who had come out of nowhere, mourning a boy who had come out of nowhere and rescued her. Driven by an urge to live and move forward that, likewise, felt like it had come out of nowhere.

If she tried to connect the memories of her weeks long chase after Abby with her current surroundings, it made no sense. Like she was missing a big piece of the puzzle and the one that was presented to her was from an entirely different puzzle box.

She fought the foolish voice in her head that urged her to stop, to go back to Santa Barbara and start all over again so that things would play out more logically. 

She distracted herself by forcing her tired body to set one foot in front of the other. She focused her gaze on the hills visible on the horizon, holding on to that she would find cover there. 

She forced her body to move forward when her mind felt stuck in that familiar swirl of guilt, pain and fear. She forced her body even though every step sent an excruciating wave of pain in her ribs, her head, and her hand. 

By midday, when the sun neared the peak of its daily race across the sky, she finally reached the first thickets of trees. 

They were scarce and dry at first. And then, as she kept pushing forward, the terrain started to rise and the vegetation grew richer, greener. Pine trees embraced her again, filled her ears with new bird chants and the distant sound of the wind shaking the highest branches. 

She welcomed their familiar scent and the shelter they provided. She welcomed the distraction they offered to her agitated thoughts. She let the gusts of wind blowing through the pine needles fill her mind and rustle away her thoughts. 

Sooner than she’d hoped, she found an old cabin in a clearing. The roof had partially collapsed on one side and it was obvious the windows had been boarded at some point. After she forced the lock and swept the inside with a look, though, she found the single room almost empty, save for the debris of tile and molded wood. Still, it made a decent hideout. 

Before she knew it, she was slumping to the floor, her body giving in to the exhaustion of a sleepless night and long hours of walking under the sun, worn out by the stress of permanent, imminent danger. She didn't fight the pull of sleep: if she wanted to survive the walk that laid ahead of her, she needed to rest.

* * *

When she woke up, the colors of dawn were slowly fading in the sky. She had slept through the rest of the day and the night that followed.

Her dreamless slumber had left her body sore with the recent, blossoming bruises? The immediate growl of her stomach set her priority for the day: food. She ate the last apple from her bag and spent a few hours exploring the area around the cabin. 

She also swallowed the few edible berries she found but mostly she hoped her numerous snares would grant her a rabbit or squirrel quickly enough . There was a lot of dry dead wood on the ground. She collected it  to build a fire later and kept looking for clear water. 

She followed a small stream intending to find a source. Instead, it led her to a large pond at the foot of a waterfall. The stream was weak and the surface of the water reflected in green the rare puffy clouds in the sky. It wasn't what she was looking for, but the still water immediately appealed to her. She was dirty, covered with old blood and scabs. 

She didn't think too long about the whole thing, simply made sure she was alone and safe and dropped the wood and her bag on a flat rock near the water. Close enough so she could reach for her weapons if necessary. 

She discarded her clothes and walked into the cold water, sinking her body up to waist level. The low temperature sent contradicting feelings through her spine. The cold made her shiver and she quickly felt the freezing bite on her feet. But it also felt like a good electroshock, something she'd needed to fully wake up to her current situation.

Keeping her injured hand out of the water, she carefully splashed the water on her bare chest and arms and watched the dirt run off, progressively revealing the lively pink shade of her cooled skin. 

She splashed her face several times. It felt like sandpaper and the numerous cuts on her cheeks, lips and scalp all came back to life at once upon contact with the cold water. Eventually the pain abated. When she carefully bent backwards to bathe her hair, she closed her eyes and breathed heavily, enjoying the feeling.

She knew cleaning in a cold mountain pond wasn't smart. There were all sorts of thing that could go wrong and she could easily catch a stupid cold that would be hard to kick, and quite frankly, she didn’t need any more  _ excitement  _ on her journey. But it felt good. And right now, she just needed  _ something  _ to feel good for a little while. 

All in all, she didn't spend more than five minutes in the water but by the time she walked back to her belongings, she was shivering head to toe. Still wet, she quickly put her clothes back on and hurried to the cabin where she used the wood to build a small but comforting fire.

Once she had dried completely, she'd resume her search for a source of clean water. 

* * *

Sheltered behind the fragile walls of the cabin, in the timid heat of the low fire, Ellie carefully took her journal out of her bag. The familiar paper cover felt rough in her hand. She hadn't really touched it in days, let alone opened it.

She sighed hesitantly and traced random patterns on the dark cover with the tip of her fingers. 

It opened almost immediately on the last page she'd used.

She stared at the last notes she'd taken. The address where she thought she'd found Abby, and her copy of the sick tags the Rattlers left behind them in the streets of Santa Barbara. She remembered how this group had felt like yet another obstacle between her and her objective, an annoyance. She'd barely taken the time to think about them and what they were doing to other people within the walls of that villa. But she'd seen enough to know they were fucked up.

She stared at the white space on the next page wishing she could transpose all the thoughts and images that animated her mind. But they were too numerous, too overwhelming. 

Her hand was shaky when she went to reach for her pen. She realized it was still too soon. Instead, she spent long minutes tracing with her eyes and fingers Dina's and JJ's inked silhouettes. Something she'd done countless times ever since she left the farm. They seemed so far away, out of reach. As if light years of events, pain and terrible choices separated them from her. 

Her eyes were still wet when she let herself give in to the pull of sleep.

* * *

Three days Ellie spent in the cabin. Three days building strength, nursing her wounds, ordering her thoughts. On the morning of the third day, dark clouds still populated her mind but the storm had died down at last. She left the cabin door closed, a shelter offered to the next visitor.

She climbed the nearest hill, where she hoped to gain a better vantage point over the routes available. When she reached a plateau near the summit of the tall hill, she faced the west and let awe strike her. 

In front of her laid miles and miles of flat lands. Here and there the dirt was tainted with dark brown and vivid ocres. In the distance, almost mistakable with the clouds, large patches of white signaled the desert salt flats. Beyond, she knew she would find Salt Lake City. Like every time, her heart picked up and started racing in her chest at the thought of this doomed city she hoped never to see again. 

She turned her gaze towards the North. Twin Falls was a few days away. You had to be careful when approaching that city. She’d learned that on the way to Seattle. Countless infected traveled across Idaho and kept appearing in the streets. That, and hunters.

Knowing neither road, the choice wasn't easy but she made it quickly: she would head North. Rubbing salt on the wound would do no good, even after years had passed. 

* * *

The hike across the plain was long and harrowing. The days passed and seemed all alike: from dawn to dusk she would  hike on the hillsides, astutely using the cover of the occasional thickets or crouching amidst the tall grass. 

From time to time, she encountered a peaceful flock of bison or a handful of coyotes who would leap with surprise, yards away from her in seconds. She walked upon a few stragglers too and wasted no time in neutralizing them.

Other times, when she judged that it was worth the detour, she would deviate from her course and explore an old building: farms and warehouses mostly. One day, she found edible food twice in a row. And then the next day, none of the partially-ruined houses she found on her way offered anything. Exhausted, she used the last house with almost-intact bedding to sleep through the hunger.

Later, s he'd been back on the road for two hours when she caught  two rabbits with her last arrow s . She built a fire quickly and put it out as soon as the meat was done. She took a  good piece in her mouth and kept the rest wrapped in paper in her bag. She could eat more later. 

* * *

The midmorning sun disappeared behind a thick layer of dark clouds that made her feel like night had suddenly fallen. The wind grew stronger and started to pick up the dirt on the trails, sending it in her eyes and threatening to push her off course. 

From then on, to keep walking straight towards the North was a struggle. She tucked the collar of her jacket tighter around her neck and kept going, eyes narrowed to slits. 

* * *

It is possible that under different conditions, she would have heard the sounds or seen the unnatural cloud of dirt sooner. But when they finally alarmed her, it was too late to think of a better, smarter way to escape the horde of infected that came out from the East. 

Making a split-second decision, she started to run for the carcass of an old camper, long forgotten on the road more than half a mile away. 

The sky fell upon her when she reached it, out of breath . T he loud bangs of thunder cover ed the angry screams emanating from the creatures stumbling after her. She jumped on the rusted ladder, and scrambled to the roof before kicking it off to keep herself out of reach. She laid low, out of view on the metal surface. 

As the horde circled the vehicle within a minute, she reached for her rifle, hoping she wouldn't need to shoot them all: she didn't have enough ammo for that. 

* * *

Night had fallen for real this time. It seemed to calm them for a bit, but then the cracks of thunder became so loud it got them all excited again. In the intermittent flashes of bright light, Ellie could see them agitated and running around the vehicle, bumping into each other, stepping on each other. Each time though, she would meet too many eyes looking straight at her.

She’d whimper, and retreat from the edge of the roof, crying silently, pressing her eyelids closed and the heels of her hands to her ears to forget about the thunder and the growls. But without a roof over her head, without walls around her, she felt like any small movement, any second of inattention would send her to a certain death. So she would roll back onto her stomach quietly, wipe the heavy rain off of her eyes and tighten her grip on the wet handle of her rifle before starting to watch the horde again.

* * *

A few had left during the night, confused by the storm or driven away by the sight of other animals within easier reach than Ellie. She spotted fewer clickers in the crowd now. But they were still too many gathered around the old camper. She wondered if they even remembered she was up there.

She tried to stretch her back without making any noise. She was tired of lying down, she was hungry and she was freezing. There was a shallow puddle of rain water below her, stuck on the uneven relief of the roof caused by her presence. It continuously soaked her clothes, and the roof was too narrow to move away from it. 

She looked at the sky one more time: the clouds were still low and heavy, a barrier between her and the heat of the sun. She almost missed the hot, darting sun from California. 

She considered them another moment. The clouds above her were heavy with rain, so dark they made it seem like the sun was never even a thing. Even in Jackson she'd rarely seen a sky like this. 

She sniffled and focused her attention back on the ground. She was sick of the rain, sick of the infected, sick of all this.

She reached for the last piece of meat in her backpack. It was cold and damp, almost tasteless, washed by the rain that had found its way through the front pocket of her bag and through the paper.

She chewed slowly, knowing that if the horde stayed around the old camper one more day, she would have to make a difficult choice: die from hypothermia on this roof or die trying to outrun them for miles and miles. 

* * *

During the day the temperature had risen enough that she had stopped shivering constantly. But when the light started to dim, signaling the return of the night, a soft but insidious wind came from the North. It froze her to bone almost instantly. 

She counted the infected around her one more time. Thirty-four… half as numerous as they had been when the sun had risen . She wasn't sure she could wait until the next morning, holding on the hope that they would be gone by then. She had to do something. 

_ Motherfuckers… _

At least she could use the night to her advantage and sneak away without being seen. As long as they were distracted long enough not to spot her climbing down...

She needed enough noise to draw them all away from the vehicle. She had no bomb or cocktail in her bag and nothing to craft any. All she had with her were rags, pills, weapon parts and her rifle. 

She considered it quickly: if it meant having a chance at escaping the horde, she could afford to lose the machine gun. With only four bullets left, it would become useless pretty quickly anyway. Plus, without its weight she might be able to run faster. 

"Okay, you got this…”

She quietly emptied the chamber of the gun and reloaded all of her other weapons before sliding the bag back on and checking the straps. Knife in her left hand and revolver tucked in the waistband of her jeans, she crouched slowly, careful not to slip on the water. She looked around her one last time, took a deep breath and raised the machine gun ready to throw it. 

She only had one chance. She needed  the gun to land on the hard surface of the road, where it would make more noise: close enough so that they would hear it, but far enough so that the diversion would leave her enough time and room to escape.  Once she would've jumped from the roof, there would be no going back.

The  gun flew in the air for a few seconds before it crashed onto the asphalt. The noise was not as loud as she’d hoped, but it seemed to do the job, dragging several infected away from the camper, the rest of them  following suit . Most of the rest, at least. 

Once she was sure the way was clear, she prepared to jump from the front of the vehicle, aiming  at one of the straggling runners. A muffle grunt escaped its mouth when she landed on its back, pinning him to the floor. She immediately planted her knife in his neck before jumping back to her feet and trotting away quietly, looking behind her several times to make sure she wasn’t followed. 

She kept this pace for a couple of hours in spite of the stiffness in her body. At least she felt warmer now that she was running.  It was almost pitch dark around her, so it was hard to tell whether or not she was followed. 

S he remained on the lookout , using her ears and focusing on the sounds all around her, hoping she wouldn’t run into another horde. Hoping she would make it out. 

* * *

She sighed when she noticed the boards on the front door of the farmhouse. A curse escaped her mouth when, after trotting to the other side of the building, she found a similar set up on the back door. Biting the inside of her cheek, she briefly considered giving up and continuing her way North, but she’d run in the dark all night. She was exhausted and it felt stupid to let go of an opportunity like this. 

Like the rest of the house,  both doors had been boarded from the outside, which meant the threat  had likely been inside. If her travels across the country taught her anything, it was that a house that looked like a decent shelter could be the most terrible deathtrap. 

She huffed again, bringing her fists to her waist to stabilize her thoughts. If she was cautious, she could still use this place to get the rest she needed. There was no noise coming from inside. No growl, no whine, no rummaging either when she knocked against the door. But then again, stalkers were always hard to detect.

A window bore no boards on the second floor. Maybe whatever was locked in the house had escaped a long time ago… 

She considered the best way to access the  window . She could climb the gutter. But was it solid enough? She looked around the house again,  intending to find a rope. She found a ladder. 

It was heavy and rusted but she was able to carry it and lift it against the wall. After making sure it was stable enough, she started climbing. 

The glass was shattered on the window frame, seemingly confirming that someone or something had jumped through it at some point. With the barrel of her revolver, she finished breaking the glass and hopped over into a bedroom opening to a dark corridor. 

Flashlight on, gun on point, she slowly explored the four rooms of the upper floor. A bathroom, two bedrooms and a storage room, all filled with dust, blood and useless items from the old world -except for  a bed that she eyed intensely before returning to the corridor. 

There was a latch on the ceiling that she assumed led to the attic. She decided not to pull it down: given the aggregation of undisturbed dust around the frame and hinges, it looked like it hadn’t been touched in decades. 

She progressed downstairs carefully: old wooden steps were the worst traitors. Downstair was a mess of furniture flipped upside down and partially broken, their contents spread on the floor like a unique carpet. She noted that in spite of the mess, there was no trace of fungus anywhere. 

She swept the kitchen before moving to the rest of the silent house. She found two cans of cat food that made her stomach growl noisily. She tossed them in her backpack and left the room. 

Nothing in the living room or in the second bathroom. 

Nothing in the two study rooms.

She was starting to relax, feeling the pull of the bed upstairs waiting for her to finally get the rest she so needed. 

There was one last door she hadn't opened. She approached it and was about to drop her hand on the handle when a tingling sensation in the back of her neck made her pause. She froze into place and listened carefully, looking at the door frame. She couldn't hear anything really, but she recognized the flying dust particles at her feet, passing through the slit between the floor and the door. Spores.

_ There they are… _

She walked backward slowly, making her way back to the stairs and climbing as quietly as possible. 

She headed back to the bedroom she had first visited, where she could jump out back on the ladder if necessary. Noiselessly, she pushed a heavy dresser in front of the closed door. The effort drained the last of her strength. She crouched and leaned against the dresser, panting. 

What was she supposed to do? Could she chance staying in this room, hoping whatever was downstairs hadn't spotted her? Could she chance letting her guard down while sleeping and hope it -or they- would not sneak upstairs unnoticed? 

But then again, would she be that much safer outside, where she could come across another horde? Maybe next time there wouldn't be a roof on which to take shelter… 

She sighed and scratched the back of her ear. Nothing in this house was ideal, but she didn't have anything better. 

She slid her bag off her back and dropped in front of her. With her uninjured hand, she dug one of the cans out and used her knife to open it. She fished chunks of unidentified meat into her mouth. It was salty, but it didn't taste like anything. She chewed on the gelatinous texture, eating half of the can, and kept the rest for when she'd wake up. 

She rinsed the taste from her mouth with a long pull from her canteen. She let her head go back against the wood panel of the dresser and took a deep breath in: she started feeling better. 

After a few minutes of silence, where she was content listening to the pumping of her heart, she rose to her feet and walked to the bed. She lifted the dusty blanket off the mattress and tossed it to the other side, a small cloud of dust forming above the sheet. It was too dirty to be of any use. 

She walked back to the dresser and pulled the drawer open. It was filled with clothes and sheets. She grabbed a thin blanket covered with motives that made her smirk.

Toy trucks, balls, teddy bears… It was a kid's blanket. 

She tossed it onto the mattress and closed the drawers.

When she laid on the old mattress, she kept her clothes and her shoes on, her backpack close.

Ready. 

She hoped she could stay there and rest until she’d decided to leave. It all depended on the creatures in the basement.

* * *

She was confused when she woke up. It wasn’t the darkness or the sound of the rain outside. It was the feeling in her chest , as if  everything was back to normal. It made her forget that she wasn’t home, for a few seconds before everything came back. 

She wished she could’ve held onto this sensation a little longer. She wished she could roll on her side and be faced with Dina and J.J., both asleep or looking at her, having waited for her to wake up. But as always, the weight of her decisions came forcefully crashing back on her shoulders, making her almost choke before she could get her breathing normal again. 

And then, the reminiscence of her dream. This time…

It wasn’t the first time since Santa Barbara, but this time it had felt real. So real.

It hadn’t felt like a dream or a memory. It had felt like she was back there again, breathing in the air and smells of Jackson, hearing the sounds,  _ feeling _ like she was in Jackson, and all the while creating a new memory, discovering new details.  As if it wasn’t already just an old memory. 

A tear rolled on her cheek. Not a sad tear, but one that came from the emotion of the moment. A strong, powerful emotion that was made of so many things at once. 

There was sadness, because what she’d lived , back there in Jackson, how it felt, was lost forever. Bitterness, because there were regrets, there would always be. Happiness, pure joy, because every such moment was a delight and having had the chance to live one again… Remorse, anger and fear, because that night, months and months ago, she’d felt bad, so bad for the wasted years, for her, for him, for all of them. Love - she wished she’d told him more often… 

She’d dreamt of that night before everything changed, before she lost him and herself altogether. She’d revisited that moment of truth, of truce between them. That moment that should’ve felt like the beginning of something new, not like an end. 

It was a key memory she thought she’d lost along with all the good ones that happened before. A memory buried so deep under the pain and the guilt, so far, that for almost a year she’d thought it would never ever come back. 

And unexpectedly, when her resolution had seemed the strongest, it had finally resurfaced. It had been as if all of a sudden Joel had been there, on the beach in Santa Barbara, beside her, his hand on her shoulder, warning her to stop. To stop before it was too late, before her hands had definitively strangled who she’d been before that winter night in Jackson. 

She thought of Joel a few times since Max had rescued her on the beach. Even more frequently since she began traveling alone. But she had kept the memory at bay, afraid that it would shatter and disappear again if she tried to invoke it. Afraid of what might happen. 

But it found her in her sleep, when her guard was down. 

And it hadn’t vanished after. 

She closed her eyes. For the first time since… For the first time in so long, she could see him. She could see his smile. 

She let a tear-soaked laughter break the silence in the room. And another.

And another. 

**Author's Note:**

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> 
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